Full House
by White Crow
Summary: Hermione and Draco enter a marriage of convenience! Based on the hit Korean TV series with the same name... DHr DP HrB
1. A Series of Unfortunate Events

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: After a long hiatus, I am back! I have decided to take down Pure and Simple and return with a funnier, more entertaining fanfic! And I assure you, this time, this story has a plot!

Chapter 1: A Series of Unfortunate Events

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT I HAVE NO MONEY LEFT?"

Hermione Granger seldom lost her patience. She was never known to be hotheaded or whiny. But of course, this momentary loss of cool is not without a back story.

It all started with the unfortunate event of her parents' deaths. It was shortly before the War ended. Treachery and two beams of green light was all it took to change Hermione's life forever. From the beginning, she never really wanted to delve upon the tragedy, and at this point, it is better for us to do the same. Anyhow, after the War, when Harry finally got to marry Ginny and Ron, Luna, Hermione opted to live her life away from the magic and memories of the Wizarding World. She once again occupied her parents' house in the Muggle world and pretended that her parents were not really dead but were merely on a vacation. A very long vacation. One could say that she was in the state of denial, one could say that it was insanity. She preferred not to call it anything at all. Of course, she has acknowledged the fact that her parents were not coming back three days from now, barging into the front door, wearing leis and sun visors but she decided not to take their death as a hindrance to life and instead decided to live the future days of her life reliving the great memories they left her; great memories which were most prominent in their beautiful house by the sea.

She dearly loved the house, with its wide glass windows, polished oak stairs and comfortable interiors, and actually did not like leaving it empty. She wanted to stay in the house so much that she took up the profession of a freelance writer, with the house as her office. Her current occupation came as a shock to her Wizard friends, most of whom expected that she would be a Healer at St. Mungo's. It came as a shock to Hermione, too. She does not quite know what possessed her that sunny afternoon, two years ago, when she grabbed her father's favorite pen and scribbled the ideas and stories playing around in her head. She thought that her short stories were rather good and from then on, she has not stopped writing.

Though she admits that writing, while making her truly happy and never bored (because it took much of her time), did not offer a nice paycheck. She could still pay her bills, eat three times a day and keep Crookshanks and the house in a good condition but she often found herself always tightening her belt: buying less of the things that are not completely necessary and limiting her expenses only to items that she could not live without. Sometimes she wonders what her life would've been if only she stayed in the Wizarding World and took the job at St. Mungo's. It would be, of course, more comfortable, if not luxurious, but she doubts if she would be as contented as she is as a writer compared to being a Healer.

Hermione finally figured that if she wanted to keep herself happy, then she had to work for it. So every time there was an opportunity for her to improve her career as a writer, she grabbed it. She joined writing workshops in different parts of England, she submitted all her finished works to every publishing company she could go to and of course, wrote furiously every day and every night.

Hermione's astonishing determination starts our story, for everything of importance (to this part of her life, at the very least) happened after she decided to fly to Iowa and stay there for a week to attend her first-ever international writing workshop, leaving Crookshanks and the house to the care (or the un-care, technically speaking) of her muggle best friend, Sheila and Sheila's husband, Ned. Hermione's troubles began the moment the plane landed on English soil and she decided to go to the bank to withdraw some money only to find out, much to her dismay, distress and intense displeasure that she had not even a penny left in her bank account.

Which brings us back to the present state of things with which we left Ms. Granger at the beginning of this chapter.

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT I HAVE NO MONEY LEFT?" Hermione incredulously repeated, shouting vehemently at the blonde bank teller in front of her.

"Ms. Granger, please lower your voice, I would like to remind you that you are inside a bank," said the teller, trying to calm Hermione down. To no avail, of course.

"Oh, am I in a bank?" Hermione asked sarcastically, "because correct me if I'm wrong but from what I know, banks HAVE money and I could just swear that you told me just a minute ago that my account HAS NONE! Are you trying to make me laugh?" Hermione continued to shout, despite the hissing of the other people watching her outrage. Hermione was yelling with such venom that the security guard already had his hand on the belt of his pants, ready to pull out his gun. From his post at the door, he cautiously approached the enraged Hermione from behind.

"Like what I have told you a thousand times before, Ms. Granger, your account seems to be empty---"

"Well, like I told YOU a thousand times before, that's not possible!"

"But Ms. Granger, the bank records say---"

"To hell with your bank records!" exclaimed Hermione, making the teller jump up nervously. "I was in Iowa last week and NOBODY and I mean NOBODY could have taken my money, unless you got robbed and conveniently forgot to tell me about it!"

"Ms. Granger----"

"Excuse me, Miss, what's the problem here?" the security guard interjected, introducing his presence with a baritone voice too deep to be genuine.

"The problem," said Hermione, turning around to face the guard, "is that Blondie here is telling me that I have no money left. As in NO money, zero, null, nada, NONE!"

"Well ma'am," answered the guard in his macho pitch, "if Ms. Corwood says that the bank records shows so, then she must be, with all due respect, right,"

Hermione felt like the veins in her temples were filling up with boiling blood and would soon explode. Her eyesight was getting dimmer and she fought not to lose control and end up drawing her wand and giving both the teller and the guard so many hexes, they wouldn't be able to stand up right. She was just about to start shouting again when a particularly loud sound of a throat being cleared distracted her. She looked to her left and saw a chubby, elderly man, quite like Harry's horrible Uncle Vernon, looking directly at her. Judging from his black ironed suit and authoritative bearing, Hermione guessed that he was the bank manager.

"If you wouldn't mind, Ms. Granger, I would like to speak with you in my office. This way, please,"

Hermione, feeling that her throat was ripped to shreds, cast one last menacing look at Ms. Corwood the teller and still seething, followed the manager to his office at the back.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Have some tea, Miss Granger," offered E.G. Huntington, Bank Manager (so it says in the iron name plate on top of his table) as soon as Hermione had taken her seat inside the office. Hermione's thirst did not leave any room for politeness and so, she gulped the tea offered to her noisily, while having a quick look at the office's interiors.

It was a run-of-the mill executive office: air conditioner, plush carpeting, polished wooden tables, elegant swivel chairs and large, silver-framed family photos. Everything would've looked quite normal if not for the presence of the bushy brown-haired enraged customer sitting in one of the comfy swivel chairs.

E.G. Huntington sat down behind the big, wooden desk and after a sip of tea, regarded Hermione with a kind smile.

"I do hope your throat is better," said E.G. Huntington, more amused than annoyed at Hermione's earlier behavior.

Hermione smile reproachfully. Her rage had vanished with her thirst. "Yes, thank you. I am truly sorry for my unacceptable behavior, Mr. Huntington. I assure you, it will not happen again."

"No need for assurances, Ms. Granger. I would like to think that what transpired earlier was merely a product of... a misunderstanding."

"How I wish it were like that, Mr. Huntington. But, though I know it might not have happened to you yet, being told that all your money is gone is more than just misunderstanding," said Hermione, getting angry once again.

Mr. Huntington nodded. "Well, yes, of course. I understand your distress Ms. Granger and I hope you understand what I am about to confess to you regarding your, er, _disappearing_ finances."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"First I would like to ask you," began Mr. Huntington, crossing his legs, "if you have recently spent money using your credit card?"

"Huh? Ermmm, I do not deny that I have a credit card but I don't use it anymore. In fact, I think I lost it a couple of months ago," answered Hermione, thoroughly confused.

Mr. Huntington cleared his throat again. "Are you sure, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione reviewed her past activities during the said months and was quite assured that she did not, in any way, make use of her credit card to purchase anything. Truth be told, Hermione preferred to pay her transactions with cash and found the paperwork of using credit cards irksome. She only got one because of Ned's urgings (Ned used to work at The Goodwill Bank; he was fired after he was found guilty of tampering with his time card).

"Yes, I am quite sure that I did not use my credit card recently," Hermione answered finally.

Mr. Huntington studied her with a keen eye and after clearing his throat, opened a drawer and pulled from it a rather thick wad of papers.

"These, Miss Granger, are the records which show that your credit card has been, indeed, used to purchase quite a number of items during the past week," explained Mr. Huntington, answering the question Hermione was about to voice out. His explanation offered little clarification, however, for Hermione seemed more perplexed about the current situation. Mr. Huntington noticed her bafflement and spoke once again.

"Miss Granger, these records show that your finances did not vanish into thin air, as you think it did. Now the question we must ask is this: are you positively sure that your credit card was lost and you did not let anyone borrow it?"

Hermione's heart thumped. At that moment, she knew that something was not right.

"What do you mean?" she asked, dreading the reply.

Mr. Huntington handed her the papers. "I am sorry to say that someone has been using your credit card, Miss Granger, without your permission,"

"What?"

She made a grab for the papers and there she saw where all her money had gone. And the culprit: it was Sheila Bartleby.

"Sheila! Sheila did this?"

"Have another cup of tea, Ms. Granger," offered Mr. Huntington, standing up.

"No... no wait... you mean Sheila... Sheila had my credit card all this time? This can't be!"

Mr. Huntington wrung his hands. "Forgive me for saying this, Miss Granger, but... the loss of your funds is partially your fault. Why did you not report the loss of your credit card as soon as you knew it was gone?"

Hermione grappled for an answer. "I didn't--- I was--- I---"

She failed to give a sufficient answer. Of course, it was quite careless of her not to report the loss of her credit card. But she did not think that that was enough justification for Sheila to take advantage of her. Her rage mingled with disbelief.

Hermione felt like she was about to faint. "But---but---how could she do this to me? I trusted her!"

Mr. Huntington tried to soothe Hermione. "Calm down, Miss Granger---"

But, alas, those words brought more anger to Hermione.

"Calm down? Calm down! How could you ask me to calm down! Sheila lied to me! She spent all my money not even thinking that she left me with nothing! How could she?"

"Miss Granger, please do try to understand---"

"What is there to understand?"

Mr. Huntington tried to get Hermione to sit back down, for her fury brought her to her feet. "Miss Granger, please I beg you to control your emotions for I will tell you about Mrs. Bartleby's visit to me only three days ago---"

"Visit?"

"Yes, so please sit down. I cannot possibly go on with you towering over me with such anger. It is making me rather queasy,"

Hermione relented to the request and plopped back down the swivel chair. "All right, I'm listening, go on,"

Mr. Huntington cleared his throat once more. ". "Mrs. Bartleby came her just three days ago, and told me that you had left for Iowa and in the process, left with her your house---"

"---And my cat,"

"---And your cat, and said that since you were gone and she desperately needed money, she took... er... full liberty with regards to spending your money with your credit card---"

"The nerve!" Hermione interjected.

"Well yes, but you see, when she realized that she had spent all you money (leaving only spare change), she at once felt guilty about it and decided to inform me---"

Hermione was on her feet again. "Guilty? Guilty, you say? And only then did she feel guilt! The ungrateful little---"

Mr. Huntington once again grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. "Do allow me to continue, Miss Granger. Now, take your seat, thank you. And so I was saying that she came to me and confessed her actions because she was sure that you'd find out sooner or later, and that it would be quite unjust if you were left with no explanation whatsoever. Mr. Bartleby---"

"Ned, that raving idiot,"

"Yes, as I was saying, Mr. Bartleby did in fact leave in my possession a letter and asked me to give it to you the moment we.. Er... meet,"

In saying this, Mr. Huntington again pulled open a drawer and extracted from it a small red envelope and handed it to Hermione.

"I suppose the answers to your other questions can be found in that letter."

Hermione took it, very much wanting to tear it in half but thought better of it and instead, shoved it in her bag. Mr. Huntington watched her closely, as though expecting her to burst into flames.

At that moment, Hermione felt exhausted. She was drained of all her energy but not of her anger, making her all the more frustrated. She rubbed her temples, feeling that a headache was coming. She could not yet contemplate the consequences of the loss of her money at that point but she was already expecting the worst. Left with no money, she felt like she was going out of that bank as a beggar.

Hermione covered her face with her hands, in defeat, more than anything. "What am I going to do now?"

Mr. Huntington looked sympathetic. "I am truly sorry to know that you did not, in fact, give your full consent to Mrs. Bartleby and you are now left with only a few pennies. But on the other hand, I am quite relieved to know that you indeed know a person by the name of Sheila Bartleby---"

"And how could that be relieving?" asked Hermione scathingly.

"Well, it only means that since you know Mrs. Bartleby, you can ask for your money back," Mr. Huntington replied with a smile.

"I suppose you are right, Mr. Huntington," sighed Hermione. "It's not like I could do anything about it. At least they didn't sell my house--- or my cat,"

"Ermmm," was Mr. Huntington's feeble reply.

Hermione's eyes widened once more, as another infuriating revelation was made to her.

"Actually," said Mr. Huntington, wiping his face faster than before, "Mrs. Bartleby told me that in case you passed by, that I should inform you that Crookshanks is currently in Fiddle Dee's pet shop, waiting for your arrival."

Hermione has heard enough. Mouth pressed into the thinnest of lines, she began to walk out of Mr. E.G. Huntington's office in quick strides, not even saying goodbye.

"Ms. Granger! Erm, Ms. Granger!" Mr. Huntington's nervous voice called out.

"Yes?" said Hermione, without looking back.

"I would like to inform you that your head is on fire..."

Sheila was going to pay.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco Malfoy. 22 years old. Rich. Blonde. Gorgeous. And currently being scolded at by his father, Lucius Malfoy, in one of the posh offices at one of the fine buildings of their prestigious business organization, Malfoy Wizarding Corporation.

"Father, please,"

"I said NO, Draco. You will, and I repeat you WILL make the marriage proposal to Ms. Pansy Parkinson as soon as possible. No excuses."

Draco, though not exactly giddy with the prospect, did not care much because he and Pansy have been friends since their days at Hogwarts. Even during the War, wherein the Aurors defeated the Dark Lord's forces and saved both the Wizarding and Muggle world from complete devastation, Draco and Pansy stuck together. Of course, coming from the same family background, the two of them did not find any reason to trust the others with their lives, for fear of being betrayed, as they have betrayed others of their kind. The War was gruesome and most of the Witches and Wizards who lived through it preferred not to talk about it. Many lives and property were lost; even hope was scarce, so scarce that Draco was surprised to find his family intact at the end of it all. His father betrayed the Dark Lord at the very end, choosing his life as a free man from a life of a man in Azkaban and decided to abandon Voldemort and tell the Aurors where the Dark Lord was. Pansy's father sided with Lucius and both families fled as the War raged on. Crabbe and Goyle, of course, ended up as orphans and are serving their time in Azkaban, giving Draco more reason to stay close to Pansy, the only person he considered an ally.

The possibility of a future marriage was expected, of course, and Draco couldn't think of anybody else to get married to other than Pansy. Not because he _loved_ her (though he supposes that they do love each other, as much as two cold-blooded persons could love), but because it was convenient. Not only for him but for his family. His father is particularly delighted with the idea, Pansy being the sole heiress to her rich pure-blooded family's treasure. His mother, though not as excited to give away her only son, was comfortable with the thought, mainly because Pansy grew up to be not as a pug-faced woman as everyone expected her to be, but as a beautiful and elegant lady, perfectly playing the role of the desirable, affluent blonde with Daddy's gold. One could say that Draco and Pansy was a perfect match. And that made the deal disagreeable to Draco.

When he was a child, he wanted to be like his father, to do everything that would please his father. But as he grew older, wiser and let us say, more rebellious, the concept of bringing pride to Lucius lost its appeal and Draco looked for every opportunity to do the contrary. Yes, he did take the position as Senior Vice President of LWC like his father told him to do so. Yes, he ended his relationship with that shapely hooker from the Hogshead Inn like his father told him to do so. But he was not going to marry Pansy, like what his father wants him to do so. Not that he doesn't want to; like what was said, he really doesn't care. But he was tired of his father always controlling his life. He figured that if he wanted to get married, then he would get married on his own terms. Sure, he'd propose to Pansy, eventually, but only when he sees it fit.

Now, however, Draco does not dare to voice out an appeal to the formidable Lucius, whose platinum blonde tresses are little by little being replaced by white hairs. For fear of being hexed (old habits die hard), Draco chose to shut his mouth and let his father berate him some more.

"What is it you want, Draco?" continued Lucius, obviously enjoying the authority, "You have the looks, the money, the fame, everything a wizard could want! And Pansy is there, yours! So beautiful! So rich! And just waiting for you to make a move! Don't be a fool, Draco! Do what I say and your life will be set! For the rest of your days, you will bathe in luxury, nothing less. Why don't you listen to your own father, Draco?"

"I am listening, Father," said Draco softly, while examining his nails.

"Don't be stupid, boy and follow my commands! Stop being idle! You are young and you have the ability to conquer the world!"

"I don't think so, Father. We know what happened to the last one who tried to do that, don't we?" He answered, giving his father a knowing look. "I would like to keep my perfect nose, thank you very much."

"Don't mock me, boy."

"Not mocking, Father."

Lucius sighed. "Fine. I suppose you've had enough telling-to for today." He brushed away his hair from his face and straightened his robes. "Very well. All that's left to tell you is that I am holding a banquet five days from now and I think that it would be the perfect time to... settle little problems." He looked at Draco in a way that told him what those "little problems" were.

Draco stood up. "Very well, Father, as you please. I will propose during the banquet, three days from now."

Lucius clapped his son's shoulder. "I knew you'd see sense, son. I would like you to know that what you will do will make me and your mother proud."

"I am delighted to hear that, Father." Draco bowed his father out of his office and promptly closed the door behind him.

In five days, he'll have to make a marriage proposal. He'll only have five days to think of how to get out of it.

Next Chapter: Hermione tracks down Ned and Sheila and finds out more horrible news.

A/N: So, what do you think of my comeback piece? I repeat, it's based on a Korean TV series with the same name; for those who about it, good, because you can tell me if I made the right modifications. For those who don't, better, at least you don't know what's going to happen!  R&R

Notes:

Chapter title: Well, I know it's another rip-off, but don't you think it just fits?

Location: I'm from the Philippines, ergo, I don't know anything about London, England and everything I write about it in this story are all made-up. So pardon me for the inconsistencies with the _real _London.

Characters: As you can possibly notice, I made some changes to some characters for this story. To Harry and Ron fans, I'm sorry but they're not gonna be in the story. I'd probably make them drop by but they're not going to be main, participating characters. For once. To Pansy fans (I believe they exist), heads up because I'm going to give Pansy a nicer, not-so-canon characterization, so better wait for that one. To Draco fans, don't worry; he'll still be haughty, naughty, dense and dreamy. And lastly to avid Hermione fans, I'm keeping most of the real characterizations; I'm just going to make her feistier this time :). Hope you support this one because so far, I'm having fun making it!

Blog: don't forget to visit:

You can see my pic there :)


	2. The Beginning

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: It took longer than expected but it's because I had to revise Chapter 1 (thanks to firefirefly2 for the constructive criticism). Enough chat, on with the show!

Chapter 2: The Beginning

On the way home from the pet shop, Hermione couldn't help herself from crying. She sobbed from the moment she sat on the plastic chair of the subway train up to when she finally reached her house and closed the sliding door behind her. She felt so betrayed. She had always treated Sheila and Ned nicely, treated them as the only family she had. She could not fathom their reason for doing this. The horrible thing they have done to her so occupied her train of thought that she did not notice that the entire house's furniture was gone. She only came to the realization when she decided to rest on the couch she sorely missed and found out that the couch was not there. Nor were the side table and the lamp standing on it. She could not also find her favorite arm chair, the small Berber carpet, the beige curtains, and her study table by the window. Running as fast as her legs could carry her, she sprinted to kitchen, only to find that there was no kitchen. No bathroom either. She dashed up the stairs, hoping against hope that she would find at least her bed but alas, her bedroom was as empty as all the other rooms in the house. All the furniture, paintings, glassware, and pictures were gone. Hermione was so stunned that all she could do was fall on her knees and resume her crying. She cried and cried and cried, not even able to think about her current situation. She just sobbed as long as her lungs could support it. Finally, after what felt like forever, she stopped, unable to cry anymore, exhausted, alone and poor. Crookshanks merely watched her, unable to soothe his owner's heart with comforting words.

She could not think of another explanation as to why her house was empty: she made the conclusion that, unfortunately, she was robbed. At that point, Hermione thought that she couldn't be in a worse situation. No money, no furniture. She was good as dead. Wiping the remnants of her tears, she tried to make her mind work. She had to think of something. She refused to die of starvation. She was too young and too clever to just give up and let self-pity swallow her up. She considered some options.

Well, she still had some clothes. She was also able to save her parents' pictures (she brought them with her wherever she went) and most importantly, she still had her laptop, with all her works in it. She could print them out and have them published; that would take care of her basic expenses. As for the furniture, she could live without them, for now, at least. She had some shawls to serve as blankets for the night. And since the stove was installed in the kitchen, she had no problem as to where to cook her food. Hermione sighed. She was grateful for her quick mind. But her quick mind wouldn't do for long. She had to find work. She pondered more on this, concentrating very hard that she did not notice that night had fallen. Tired and hungry, she rummaged her bag for some left over chocolate. Finding a slightly mushed Mars Bar, she tore open the wrapper and broke the chocolate in half. She put the other half on the floor in front of Crookshanks. The cat merely looked at it, as if to say "And what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Eat it, Crookshanks, this is no time to be picky," said Hermione. "Tomorrow, we'll get something more but for now, this should do." She stuffed her half of the chocolate into her mouth eagerly. She got a bottle of water from her bag and took a swig. She poured some of the liquid in Crookshanks water dish. The cat meowed, probably asking for milk. Hermione shook her head.

"Tomorrow, Crookshanks,"

Hermione felt like all her limbs had turned into lead due to fatigue. Yawning, she got her shawls from out of her bag and arranged them on the floor. Pulling Crookshanks to her side, she laid on her makeshift bed, staring at the simple chandelier overhead. She felt the hot tears flow down her cheeks once again, but she wiped them away. Tomorrow, she was going to find work. And then, she was going to track down Sheila and Ned. Tomorrow...

She was up early the next morning. Not wasting any time, she took a shower, brushed her teeth and set off with Crookshanks, stopping only to buy a small can of cat food for Crookshanks and a cup of coffee for herself. It was not breakfast, but that was the only thing she could afford. At once, Hermione started invading the publishing companies, forcing her written works under their noses and not leaving until the secretary completely assured her that they would get back to her as soon as possible. Hermione was pretty sure that her works would get published mainly because she was Hermione Granger and she never did anything just 'good'. When she was not roaming the streets and relentlessly advertising her writings, she sat on park benches, busily punching buttons on her calculator, trying to make the meager funds she had fit until she got more. She spent the entire day doing all these things, only stopping to get lunch.

It was late afternoon when she arrived at her house. She was only a few houses away when she noticed that a huge truck was parked in front of it and men were unloading furniture from it, apparently moving it inside the house.

Hermione's heart jumped. She could not believe her luck. She started running, unable to contain her excitement at the sight of the furniture. She skidded in front of her house, smiling at the working men who regarded her with weird looks. She went straightly inside the house and marveled at the classy furniture already in place. But something hit her. These were not her furniture. So why were they there?

"Excuse me, miss?" a voice disturbed her thoughts.

She turned around and saw a small, mustached man in his thirties, in a crisp business suit, looking at her strangely. The man vaguely resembled the late Barty Crouch Sr., only smaller and with a thicker moustache.

Hermione smiled at the man. "Good day, sir,"

The man merely raised an eyebrow. "May I help you, miss?"

"Are you... are you the man who...erm...who are you?" Hermione asked, rather confused.

"I beg your pardon, miss, but I think I should be the one asking you that question," answered the man curtly. "May I ask why you are here?"

Hermione became even more baffled. "I own this house," she stated, "and you?"

The man gave a short laugh. "I am sorry, but did you just say you owned this house?"

"Yes, what's so funny about that?"

"I am sure you are mistaken," answered the man, coming up to her and offering his hand. Hermione hesitatingly took it. "I am Mr. Cuthbert Dingle, and I am sure that you do not own this house,"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Excuse me? And why do you say that?"

"Because my client just bought it."

Hermione felt her heart stop. "Bought?" she asked incredulously. "But this house is not for sale!"

Mr. Dingle looked just as confused as she was. "Not for sale? But as I said, my client just bought it---"

"I told you, this house is not for sale! Who are you?" Hermione felt her temper rise.

Mr. Dingle extracted some papers from his inside coat pocket and handed the papers to Hermione. "This house is now in the ownership of my client, as you could see in those papers. And I assure you, the sale was completely legal,"

"This can't be," said Hermione, as she skimmed over the papers. "I never put the house up for sale! How could this sale be legal?"

But as she examined the papers, to her dismay, the papers did show that the sale was legal. Hermione's head began spinning.

"No... no..."

Mr. Dingle observed her. "As you can see Miss---"

"Granger, Hermione Granger,"

"Miss Granger, that those papers show that this house is not yours."

Hermione's tears threatened to spill at that moment. "No, this house is mine. Who sold this house to you?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Bartleby, the persons who held the deed in their hands," replied Mr. Dingle.

At these words, Hermione's anger rushed forth and reddened her face.

"Are you pertaining to Sheila and Ned Bartleby?" she yelled, grabbing Mr. Dingle by the shoulders and shaking him.

Mr. Dingle tried to pry Hermione's fingers off of him. "Yes, Miss Granger. Do take your hands off me!"

"Where are they? Do you know where they are?"

"No! I do not! I met with them when my master took interest in their advertisement. We made the deal and that was it! I have not heard from them since---"

"Where is all my furniture?" demanded Hermione, shaking Mr. Dingle more violently.

"I asked them to take all the furniture out of the house, I do not know what they did with it, I swear! For the love of God, Miss Granger, loosen your grip!"

Hermione let go of Mr. Dingle, breathing heavily with suppressed rage.

"I own this house, Mr. Dingle, and I will not get out of it," she declared.

Mr. Dingle straightened out his suit. "How can you prove that you own this house?"

Hermione was taken aback by the question. She remembered that she left the deed of the house and all the papers in her secret drawer in the house; only she and Sheila knew about it. From Mr. Dingle's account, she knew that Sheila had already taken all the papers and so, all the proof that she had is with her. That means if she found Sheila, she could get all the papers back. But then again, even if she did get the evidence she needed to reclaim the house, she would have to buy it back. And she did not have the money for that.

This conclusion brought out a scream of ire and frustration from Hermione. Mr. Dingle looked at her as though she had gone insane.

"I hate you, Sheila!" Hermione bellowed.

All the workers stopped momentarily, surprised by Hermione's scream.

Mr. Dingle cautiously stepped back from her.

"If you do own this house, Miss Granger, I am sorry that you have to evacuate from it. It is not my fault that you have treacherous acquaintances. So I beg you, leave the premises at once."

"No!"

"Miss Granger, do be reasonable---"

Hermione silenced him with another piercing shriek.

"I will not leave this house! I have nowhere to go, do you understand that?"

Mr. Dingle seemed to reconsider for a moment. And then he spoke, "All right, then. I will allow you to occupy the house temporarily, until my client comes here. And he will be here two days from now. So I suggest that you look for another place of residence before your time is up,"

Hermione covered her face with her hands, thinking about the option given her. Two days was not a long time, but it was enough for her to find Sheila and Ned. She could ask to live with them; after all, it's their fault she was now homeless. At last, she nodded.

Mr. Dingle breathed a sigh of relief. "Very well. You can take your things upstairs and probably get yourself a glass of water. I daresay you seem like you need it."

Hermione wordlessly carried her luggage up to her room, with Crookshanks at her heels. As she opened the door, she spotted the new furniture brought in. It seemed that her room was to be converted into a guest room. She looked at the mahogany king size bed with white covers and sighed. When she thought that things couldn't get worse, they did. Now, Hermione was left with absolutely nothing. She set her bags by the door and sat down on the newly carpeted floor. Crookshanks automatically jumped on her lap. She absentmindedly stroked her pet's fur.

In two days, she would lose her only prized possession aside from Crookshanks. She tried to stop her tears from flowing but she was unsuccessful. She cried at the thought of losing her home, and with it, the happy memories of her childhood and her family. It was like a part of her was cruelly ripped out from her. Up to that moment, she cannot understand why her so-called friends made her put up with all this suffering. She had lost everything because of them.

She leaned back on the wall and stared into nothingness. It only took a few minutes before Hermione Granger was fast asleep on the floor of the room that used to be hers, inside the house that used to be her home.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Oh Blaise, you are truly delightful!"

Draco fought the urge to gag.

Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were having lunch at the expensive restaurant, Currer, that day, trying to catch up with one another's lives. Pansy, who now owned a boutique and was often busy, proposed this get together, demanding that she already misses her best friends. Blaise, who now managed his family's publishing company, though not as close to Draco as Pansy was, is a frequent companion of the two and was soon named by Pansy as her 'other' best friend. Draco thought that Pansy treated Blaise as more than that.

Just now, Pansy's attention was all focused on Blaise and his witty remarks. Pansy laughed at his every jest and Draco was getting more annoyed by the moment. He would not deny that he was jealous: he was not used to having to share Pansy's attention and though he would not admit it loudly, Blaise's dark good looks insecured him. Blaise was handsome, sure, but he, Draco, was gorgeous, and it infuriates him when he is treated like he and Blaise were equals.

Blaise smiled politely at Pansy's compliments, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

Draco watched the exchange and cleared his throat.

"Pansy, how's business?" he interrupted, eager to divert the girl's attention to him.

Pansy finally took notice. "Oh, everything's fine. My customers are very rich, famous people and I like pleasing them. I simply love my job!"

"Good for you," said Draco, raising his glass of wine to Pansy. "MWC's not doing too badly, either. Our profits are steadily increasing. In fact, we have just merged with a Muggle company in London,"

"Really? A Muggle company? And you are going to handle it, I suppose?"

"Yes, I am going to manage it. I'll have to settle as a Muggle, of course, but I'm thoroughly excited by the prospect of living as one. It would be a good change to the monotony of Wizarding luxury,"

Blaise smirked. "You, excited to live as a Muggle? Now that is new to me,"

Draco smiled at him coolly.

Pansy put her hand over Draco's. "Well, you see Blaise, we have changed our ways. And besides, it's business, isn't it Draco? As businessmen and women, as you know, we do everything we are supposed to do, regardless if it is against our whims,"

Draco grinned triumphantly at Blaise. "Quite correct, dear Pansy,"

Blaise nodded. "Well I suppose the change would do you good. Where are you going to stay then? At a hotel?"

"No, I purchased a house. Small but comfortable. I'll be moving in in a few days,"

Pansy looked delighted and gave Draco's hand a squeeze. "That's great, Draco! I'm free to visit, am I not?"

"You're always welcome, Pansy,"

"So," said Blaise, straightening up on his chair, "your father told me about the banquet he's holding in four days. What's the occasion?"

Draco quickly glanced at Pansy. "Well, I have no idea, actually. You know father, he just likes to spend money. You're going aren't you, Pansy?"

"Of course," answered Pansy, taking a sip of wine. "But what kind of banquet is it? Tell me so I could dress accordingly,"

Draco grinned. "Just wear something formal. White, preferably. But it is of no matter. Wear whatever you like, you'll look good in anything,"

Pansy laughed. "Don't flatter me, Draco,"

Draco felt like gloating but then, Blaise once again interrupted and Pansy's attention was switched back to him. The two of them talked nonstop for twenty minutes and only halted when Pansy excused herself to go to the ladies' room. Draco took the opportunity to have a talk with Blaise.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Blaise," Draco began in a serious tone. "Tell me, do you like Pansy?"

Blaise looked him in the eye and said nothing at first. After some time, he spoke; "Of course I do. Pansy is such a lovely woman,"

Draco felt his temper rise but kept his composure. "So, are you planning to marry her?"

Blaise laughed. "Marry? I think you have mistaken my meaning. I said I _liked_ Pansy, I didn't say I _loved_ her. Pansy is just a little sister to me,"

"Don't play with me, Blaise,"

"I'm not playing with you, Draco. What I say is true. Pansy is an elegant, beautiful woman. But I do not have any romantic interest in her. Why do you ask me this, Draco? Do you have feelings for Pansy?"

Draco drank his wine. "None of your business, Blaise," he replied coldly.

Blaise shrugged. "Whatever you say, Draco. But just a tip," continued Blaise, lowering his voice, "better act fast. A lot of rich bachelors have their eye on Pansy. Tell her what you need to tell her while you have the chance,"

"I do not need advice on women, Blaise, especially if they come from you,"

"Ah yes, you still have that youthful arrogance, Draco. Contrary to what Pansy said, you haven't changed a bit,"

Draco grinned evilly. "Glad you noticed,"

By then, Pansy had returned and the talk remained pleasant until the end.

As he apparated back to the mansion, he went directly to his room to brood. He hated to admit it but Blaise was right, Pansy had become the apple of every wizard's eye. Though he knew that Pansy would not choose anyone unworthy, Blaise posed as threatening competition. Draco was a keen observer and he saw that Pansy had developed feelings for Blaise. And if what Blaise said was true, then Pansy would end up with her heart broken. Draco was not going to let that happen. He realized the importance of the proposal. But four days was a tad too long for him to wait. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

By the next morning, all the men were gone and the house looked magnificent, richly furnished with expensive-looking tables, chairs, vases and chandeliers. Hermione felt like a stranger in her home, and remembered with a pang that it was only natural, because she did not own it anymore.

She ventured into the kitchen and was rather thankful that the huge refrigerator was already stuffed with food. She took what she fancied, not even caring that the food was also not hers. After breakfast, she took off, leaving Crookshanks this time, and was bent on hunting down Sheila and Ned Bartleby, the banes of her existence.

Her first stop was their small apartment in the small town of Gleeson. She rapped at the door numerous times but no one opened it. She stood there, knocking until her knuckles were red, but no one seemed to hear her. Finally, a neighbor who was quite irritated by the din got out of her house and asked Hermione, rather angrily, what she wanted.

"I'm looking for Ned and Sheila Bartleby," answered Hermione, after apologizing for the noise she had created.

"They don't live here anymore," barked the old lady with rollers in her hair.

"What? Where did they go?"

"How should I know? They left a couple of days ago. Good riddance, I should say; those two were such a boisterous, annoying couple!" And with that, the old lady, retreated back to her house, banging the door behind her.

Hermione's next destination was Sheila's house. Sheila's family was rich but when she married Ned, her father disowned her and left her and her husband to their own means. There was a slim possibility that the Bartleby's were there, but she took the gamble.

Unfortunately, as expected, the two weren't there and Hermione was forced to face the wrath of Sheila's father.

"I have no daughter named Sheila! She is dead to me!" said the balding Mr. Reed, before shutting the gates at Hermione's face.

Next, Hermione went to the insurance company were Ned was employed. But one of the employees there told her that Ned wasn't working there anymore, and he was fired three months ago. Hermione wasn't at all surprised. Ned was a person who couldn't keep to a job even if his life depended on it.

She walked out of the building with a heavy heart and aching feet. She stopped to rest at a bus stop, massaging her aching soles and cursing the elusive couple at the same time. Hermione had no idea as to where to look for them next. She was running out of money for transportation and it was getting late. She did not have lunch yet and was pretty sure Crookshanks was already angry with her for leaving him alone and with only a small serving of cat food. Hermione brushed away strands of hair from her face and reached inside her bag for a handkerchief. Instead, her hand felt the smoothness of paper. Intrigued, she looked into her bag and pulled out a red envelope: the letter Ned left her

She had forgotten about the letter, so now was eagerly ripping the envelope open, in the hope of finding a clue as to where the couple was. But the only thing she found inside was a picture of something. She looked at it closely and couldn't, for the life of her, deduce what it was. She looked at the other side of it and that's where she found Ned's handwriting.

Dear Hermione,

We're really sorry we had to put you through this. We promise, we're going to pay you back, if not next year, then next next year. Hope you're doing great!

Hugs and Kisses,

Ned and Sheila

PS: Sheila's a month pregnant, by the way. Here's a picture of our little one, enjoy!

Hermione turned the picture over again and realized that it was an ultrasound print-out. She closed her eyes and prayed for patience. The letter was worth nothing. Her questions were not answered. So what if Sheila was pregnant? She was about to tear the picture in half when she had an idea. Once again, she turned it over and looked closer. There, at the back of the print-out were monograms. Monograms that told her where the print-out was taken. Hermione instantly jumped to her feet and boarded the bus which stopped in front of her. As she took her seat, she smirked, and thanked God for Ned's stupidity.

Hermione entered St. Agnes Clinic and sprinted over to customer assistance.

"Hello, good afternoon, ma'am, may I help you?" said the receptionist with a cheery smile.

Hermione smiled back. "Yes, I would just like to ask if you have a patient named Sheila Bartleby,"

"One moment, ma'am," answered the receptionist, as she looked at the clinic's computer records. After a second, she nodded. "Yes, ma'am, we do have a patient by that name. She comes in for regular check-ups."

Hermione's heart soared. "Great. What day and time does she usually come here?" she asked eagerly.

"Well ma'am, Mrs. Bartleby comes here twice a week. In fact, she's here now with Doctor Hastings,"

Hermione stopped herself from shouting in triumph. "Thank you, miss. You've been a great help,"

"Do you want me to inform Mrs. Bartleby of your presence?"

"No, thank you. I'll just... I'll just wait here,"

After saying that, she took a seat near the clinic's entrance and with vengeful excitement, she waited. It was not long before she heard Ned's voice coming from the doctor's room.

"So, what did the doctor say? How's our little baby?" she heard Ned say.

"He said the baby's fine... I'm hungry, wisheart, can we get some food?" answered Sheila's voice.

"Sure, wisheart, what would you like?"

By then, they emerged from the room and were in Hermione's line of sight. Hermione stood up slowly and coolly, observing them carefully. The two didn't seem to notice her, however, until she blocked their way out.

Hermione would've laughed at the look on their faces if she wasn't so furious. Ned and Sheila both became pale and slightly started to tremble.

"Hello, Ned and Sheila," said Hermione with a wicked smile. "How are you?"

Sheila laughed nervously. "Her-hermione! Welcome back!"

What happened next, Hermione didn't expect. After that feeble greeting, Sheila quickly pulled her husband and pushing Hermione aside, ran out the door of the clinic.

Hermione was quick and ran after them both.

"I HATE YOU BOTH!" Hermione's violently hoarse voice followed the couple as they ran as fast as they could, past shops, stalls and people who looked on with surprise.

"You are not getting away from me! Come back here!" Hermione yelled at their quickly disappearing backs. If not for the fact that the couple did not know their friend was a Witch and that Hermione didn't think it fit to let them know, Hermione would've whipped out her wand and blasted the two into smithereens. But since she did not have that delightful option as of that moment, she ran after them, shrieking and growling all the way.

"How dare you! How dare you take all of my money and sell my house and my cat, you ungrateful cockroaches!" screamed Hermione as she gained on Sheila and Ned. "I though I could trust you!"

"We're sorry, Hermione!" yelled Sheila, who was desperately clutching at the sleeve of her husband sweater. "We just really needed it!"

"Pleas try to understand!" added Ned, as he started to feel a burning sensation in his legs.

"Understand? UNDERSTAND? You stole ALL my money and left me with nothing! How can I understand?"

"We're going to pay you back, I swear!" said Sheila, glancing back at Hermione as they turned a corner. "Just give us time!"

Hermione quickened her pace, overtaking an astounded biker she passed. "How can you pay me back when you two don't have jobs?"

"We'll get jobs! Hermione, please," pleaded Ned, "I feel like my legs are going to come off!"

"Let them! You deserve it, you lazy moron! And don't let me catch you!"

The chase took them around ten blocks three times. Ned's sleeve was already ripped off and now, Sheila was grabbing hold of his trousers, which were also sliding down his waist. Both were panting heavily but did not dare to stop, for fear of incuring Hermione's wrath; because instead of going slower after ten minutes of running after them, Hermione seemed more determined and by the looks of it, she could probably have beaten an Olympic sprinter with the rate she was going.

"Run faster, traitors!" Hermione screamed.

Sheila started sobbing softly, going slower and slower, much to Ned's dismay. To make sure that big bad Hermione wouldn't catch up on them, he resolved to carry his wife on his back and resumed running.

"Hermione, please," Ned pleaded again; "don't do this to us!"

Hermione snarled. "Why wouldn't I? You ruined my life! You run fast because if I catch you, I'm going to wring your neck!"

Ned felt like he had run miles. Every pore on his body was emitting sweat, his sweater was destroyed and his knickers were showing out. His breath was coming in short gasps, his eyesight cloudy. Sheila's weight on his back became increasingly difficult to bear. He still wanted to run, though, but before long, it became hard to focus on where he was going and finally, as they reached a dead end, he tripped on a pebble and fell face first on the ground.

With a triumphant "Ha!" Hermione finally caught on them and prying Sheila away from Ned, started to strangle her. Sheila was already sobbing by then and Ned, with his failing strength couldn't loosen Hermione's grip on his wife. They struggled for what seemed like a lifetime and Hermione, finally letting go of Sheila, ended up hitting Ned with her fists brutally.

"Stop! Stop!" sobbed Sheila, pulling Hermione off Ned.

But Hermione didn't stop. Instead, she stood up, holding Ned by the ear and roughly pulling him with her.

"You'll pay for everything, Ned, come with me and I'll take you to the police so I can have you imprisoned!" threatened Hermione.

Ned struggled but was still too weak.

"Run, Sheila, run! Save yourself!" he yelled to his wife, who was nailed to the spot, crying.

"No! I won't leave you, wisheart!" Sheila yelled back.

Hermione paid no attention to the din they were making and ignored the people who were watching the scene unfold. Hermione was already about to hail a cab when felt Ned struggle more fiercely from her grip, yelling hoarsely for his wife. She looked back and saw Sheila slumped unconscious on the ground. Her surprise made her loosen her grip on Ned, who quickly ran to his wife's side, shaking her gently. Hermione followed him.

"Sheila, Sheila, wake up! Wake up, wisheart!" said Ned to the unmoving form of Sheila. Hermione's pity took over.

"What happened?" she asked earnestly, kneeling beside the couple.

"I don't know! We should take her to the doctor!"

Hermione stood up at once and assisted Ned into getting Sheila on his back. The three then ran up the street, Hermione in the lead.

"Hang on, Sheila! Please, hang on!" pleaded Ned.

Hermione already felt the guilt creeping up her heart and sincerely hoped nothing happened to Sheila and the baby.

She tried hailing all the vehicles that went past her: trucks, cars, minivans, she stopped them all. Finally, after standing in front of it, she was finally able to get a taxi. She opened the door of the passenger's side and asked for the driver to wait. Hermione beckoned at her back for Ned and Sheila. But no one came. She turned around and saw that the couple was gone.

She walked back to the alley they were in and paced the street, craning her neck for the couple. But they had vanished. It took Hermione a moment before she realized that Sheila had once again duped her. Hermione stomped her feet in frustration. Tears were already forming in her eyes. The cab driver was already becoming impatient and warned Hermione that he would leave if she didn't board the vehicle. Resigned to her bad luck, she got inside the taxi and went home.

That night, even though she was tired from crying and running, she was not able to sleep. She knew that she was not going to see Ned and Sheila anytime soon because of what happened that day. She was sure that they would never dare go to the clinic again, for fear of encountering her. She would find them, yes, but it would be too late.

_What am I going to do next?_ thought Hermione. She doesn't have anywhere to go to. On the day after tomorrow, the new owner would arrive and she would be homeless. Perhaps if she pleaded with the new owner, she could rent her bedroom temporarily. But that would be absurd. It seemed to her that the new owner was a rich, snobby person, probably an arrogant businessman, judging from the furniture he had chosen. It was not likely that he would let her stay.

Thoughts of what would become of her disturbed her for the rest of the night and soon, it was daybreak. Hermione could hardly get up from her makeshift bed (she dared not sleep on the new one, for fear of being admonished by the new owner).

That day Hermione spent in musing. She went out into the garden and sat on the wooden bench overlooking the sea, saying a silent goodbye to this piece of earth that she called her home. She also took a tour of the house, trying to contrast the way it looked like now, newly furnished, to what it looked like in her memory. She touched the polished tables gently, admired the intricate carvings of the silver sculptures and antique vases. For the last time, she visited the master's bedroom, the room where her parents' slept and to her sadness, found out that not a remnant of her parents' memory was left in the room. It was richly decorated. A big four poster bed was at the middle, near the window was a handsome table made of oak. The curtains were a deep green, blocking most of the light from the large windows. The room felt strangely cold, devoid of any cheery element. The room reminded her of Slytherin. She shivered.

Night quickly arrived. Hermione situated herself in front of the huge glass windows, looking at the starry night from inside her house, for the last time. Crookshanks was curled up at her feet, apparently asleep. It was such a peaceful night, so serene that Hermione found it hard to remain sad. The stars twinkled above, a sign of hope for Hermione's troubled mind. All was quiet, except for the rumble of a car engine. Hermione breathed in the sweet, familiar smell of her surroundings and smiled.

The sound of a key sliding into the lock stirred Hermione from her solitude. Her heart thumped. The first thing that came to her mind was that she was being robbed. Again. Rapidly getting hold of a candlestick from one of the side tables, she carefully tiptoed towards the door, holding the candlestick over her head, ready to strike.

She heard the faint click of the door being opened and then closed. A silhouette appeared in front of the glazed sliding doors. Hermione's heart was in her throat and prepared herself.

The moment the stranger slid open the glass door, Hermione pounced and hit the robber in the head with a sound thump. The man (as Hermione could now tell that it was) was taken by surprise and was not able to protect himself. With a moan of pain, he fell to the floor, unconscious. Hermione sighed in relief and after making sure that the man was indeed knocked down, she kicked aside the arm covering his face and gasped.

Lying on the floor, with a bleeding cut on his forehead was the person she least expected to see: Draco Malfoy.

Next Chapter: Hermione gets sick.

A/N: So, did you like it? I worked hard on it, so I hope so. Just some notes to those who don't know:

Wisheart – term of endearment used by Ned and Sheila. Combination of the words 'wish' and 'heart' and is pronounced as 'wish-art'

So, folks, R&R!


	3. Porridge and Draco Malfoy

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: Here's chapter three, it was supposed to be longer but it's already thirteen pages as it is and I didn't want to bore you guys into a coma, so I cut it. Thanks for those who reviewed, by the way. I hope I get more reviews for this. Crosses fingers

Chapter 3: Porridge and Draco Malfoy

"Oh my God," was all Hermione could say. She slapped herself in the face, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating; that Draco Malfoy, _the_ Draco Malfoy, was lying on the foyer of her house, in a black business suit, unconscious but still incredibly handsome.

Hermione shook her head. No, she should not think about the way he looked at that moment. She got on her knees and pulled out her wand, in an attempt to cure the wound on Draco's head with a spell. Fortunately for him, though she didn't pursue the career, she was trained to be a nurse and could quickly heal an injury as fast as old Madame Pomfrey could.

Careful not to touch him, she muttered the spell and blue light issued forth from her wand to the wound and slowly, before her eyes, the blood slowly disappeared, the wound got smaller and smaller and soon enough, completely vanished. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She was just about to reach out and touch Draco's forehead when the blonde wizard suddenly stirred. Hermione backed away, as Draco slowly regained consciousness.

Little by little, he was able to open his eyes. For a moment, Draco lay still, trying to remember what just happened. He had just reached the new house he had just bought. He had opened the door, went inside and boom. There he was, lying on the floor, the harsh light of the fluorescent bulb overhead stunning him. What stunned him more, however, was to see Hermione Granger by his side, as he turned his head away from the light.

It had been almost four years since Draco had seen Hermione, but she looked exactly the same. Bushy brown hair and brown doe eyes, which at the moment were looking at him with a cautious gaze. He didn't want to seem hostile but the sight of her brought an automatic snarl on his features.

"Granger?"

"Malfoy?"

"What are you doing here? What did you do to me?" demanded Draco, slowly propping himself up in a sitting position. He saw Hermione stop herself from instinctively helping him up.

_Still the same goody two-shoes, I see,_ he thought.

"I didn't do anything," she reasoned. But the guilty look on her face betrayed her.

"You're a bad liar, Granger," said Draco, spotting the metal candlestick at his feet, "but you hit hard,"

"I--- I didn't mean it. I thought you were a robber?"

Draco was insulted. "Do I look like a robber?"

"Well, you go creeping up people's houses in the dead of night! I don't know what else to think!" snapped Hermione.

"I didn't creep, Granger. I unlocked the front door and went in,"

Hermione flushed with humiliation. "Whatever. You still have no right to do so. Get out of my house!" she yelled, pointing to the wooden front door.

"Your house?" asked Draco incredulously, standing up; "_your_ house? I'm sorry but I think you're gravely mistaken. This is _my_ house. My house. I bought it," he declared smugly.

The revelation made Hermione's jaw drop. "YOU BOUGHT MY HOUSE?" she shrieked. She got on her feet. "_You_?"

"Yes, me. Why not me?"

"But--- but this is Muggle London. You can't be in Muggle London. You're a wizard and you shouldn't--- shouldn't be here---"

"I can be wherever I want," said Draco, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Besides, you're a witch but you're here. I don't see any reason why I couldn't be allowed to do the same. And why would I even need to explain myself to you, anyway?"

Hermione wanted to burst out crying, but dignity stopped her from doing so.

She couldn't believe her luck. Of all the people who could own her beloved house, it had to be the obnoxious Draco Malfoy. Personally, she really had nothing against the pure-blooded Wizard. His family did revert to their side in the end and Draco had no hand in the murder of her friends and family. But she had to admit, old grudges don't disappear that quickly. The horrible way with which Draco treated her when they were still in Hogwarts remained etched in her memory. Being taunted endlessly for seven years can hardly be forgotten. Harry and Ron's unreserved hate for Draco added to her impartiality for him.

"Seriously, Granger, is this really your house?" asked Draco, stepping into the spacious living room and looking around. "I don't really see you living in this kind of place,"

Hermione made a sound of indignation. "And just what did you mean by that?"

Draco looked at her with a sneer. "Well, I expected you to be living in small cottage with a hundred cats all around you; the classic cat lady," he teased.

The mention of the word "cat" woke Crookshanks and in seeing Draco, made a threatening hiss.

"Oh lookie! There's one of them right now!"

Hermione strode forward and scooped up Crookshanks into her arms. "Ha ha, Malfoy. If there's anyone unfit to live in a house like this, it would be you. Do me a favor and go back to your cold and dreary manor!"

"Unfortunately, that's not possible," replied Draco, checking his nails. "I already bought this house and I'm actually excited to live here. Here's another suggestion; how about _you_ go and leave me in peace. How about that?"

"Listen, you conceited ferret," spat Hermione, Draco's eyes narrowing at the animal reference, "I didn't put this house up for sale. This house was sold without my permission. I don't care if you've already paid for it, but I'm not going to leave _my_ house into your disgusting hands!"

"Okay, if you feel that way, then. I'll go," Draco said simply. Hermione was stunned with his surrender; she expected another insult.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll leave," repeated Draco. "Just give me back my money and I'm out,"

"M-money?"

"Yes, the fifteen thousand pounds I dished out to buy this house. Well, it's just a small amount but it's still money. So?" Draco held out his left hand.

Hermione stared at it, at a loss for words. What Draco was asking from her was completely out of the question. She only had about twenty pounds in her pocket. And even if she sold everything she had at that moment (including Crookshanks), it would be far from enough.

"Come on, Granger, I don't have all night,"

Hermione stared at Draco helplessly, while he looked at her with triumph. Moments elapsed and Hermione remained standing.

Finally, Draco lowered his hand and sighed. "I see you're still poor as ever. Nothing to be done about that, I suppose,"

"You don't understand," Hermione began to argue. "I'm in a complicated situation--- very complicated situation. You see, my friends, well, not exactly my friends at the present--- anyway, they took all of my money when I went to Iowa, and when I came back, it seems that they have also sold this house, even Crookshanks! They sold everything I had! And if you take this house away from me, I don't have anywhere to go! I have no place to live!"

Draco merely watched her speak with amusement. After her little speech he put a hand to his chest. "Yes, very touching, Granger. I have always wondered where you've been all this time; really, I did. Now that my questions have been answered, you may go,"

"What? But I just told you---"

Draco didn't even let Hermione finish. With a wave of his wand, the front door opened. He then pointed his wand at Hermione and muttered a spell which pushed her forward and out the door, which slammed just as quickly.

Hermione landed on the grassy lawn on her butt. Crookshanks hissed menacingly. She stood up, brought out her own wand and disapparated. At least, she tried to; for she was unsuccessful. Draco, it seems, had already put the house under a spell which disabled her from getting inside by apparating. Hermione cursed him for his quick thinking. She stomped her feet in frustration.

A moment later, Draco appeared in front of her, carrying the bags she didn't mind to unpack. He threw them at her.

"Have a nice night, Granger. Nice seeing you again!" he said with a sadistic smile. A second later, he had disapparated.

"ARRRGGHHHH!" Hermione shouted in annoyance. "You can't leave me like this, Draco! Get back here, you evil rodent! You can't do this to me!" she continued to yell.

Draco apparently does not hear Hermione's shrieks and the front door remained closed. She badly wanted to slap Draco Malfoy for being so cruel to her, despite her explanations. She was so angry and so frustrated that all she could do was sink to her knees and cry. She continued crying for a few minutes but eventually stopped. The look of triumph on Draco's face gave her the courage to wipe the tears away. She stood up once again and gathered her things which were strewn on the ground.

"I'm not going, Malfoy!" she yelled again. "I'm not leaving my house, you hear me? I'm going to stay here, all night, until you open that door! I'm not giving up!"

Exhausted and with a sore throat, she walked towards the wooden bench in the front yard and sat down heavily. She was determined to stay there, whatever happened. She was not going to succumb to Malfoy and his stubbornness. Her parents' house wasn't going to his hands, that Hermione swore.

It wasn't before long that Hermione's endurance was tested. Night had fallen and it was becoming increasingly cold. Hermione quickly brought out her jacket and shawls and covered herself up the best she could. She adjusted her position and lay down the bench. Crookshanks was curled up beside her. The sound of Hermione's stomach grumbling and Crookshanks' pitiful meows mingled together. She tried to comfort her pet, but food was the only solution. Time passed and Hermione, though little by little becoming drowsy, was still famished. The cold was seeping under her flimsy blanket. Before long, she was shivering uncontrollably, but not even for one moment did she think of quitting her post. If she was to die frozen that night, then so be it.

Crookshanks' feeble purring was the last thing she heard before she fell into slumber.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco had a good night's sleep that night. Rays of sunlight passed through the heavy green curtains in his room the next morning. Yawning and stretching, he got up and went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. While getting dressed, he decided to tour around his new neighborhood, go jogging perhaps. So after a quick breakfast (one banana and a glass of milk, since he didn't know how to cook magically or manually), he put on his newly bought Muggle sneakers and opened the front door. To his surprise, there lying on the wooden bench, fast asleep, was Hermione Granger.

Draco felt his good mood slip away. Shaking his head, he approached the girl and began kicking the bench on which she lay.

"Hey, wake up," he said to Hermione's prostrate form. "Granger, wake up!"

After some more kicking, Hermione groaned in response. Her cat started to stir.

"Wake up, Granger, get up and get out of my lawn,"

But Hermione merely gave him another groan.

Draco exhaled. "Don't annoy me, Granger! I said wake up!" He gave the bench a particularly hard kick and down went Hermione, Crookshanks and all.

That seemed to do the trick. Hermione's eyes fluttered open and slowly stood up from the dewy grass. Crookshanks angrily hissed at Draco, his bottlebrush tail high up. Draco hissed back at the cat.

"What did you that for?" asked Hermione groggily.

"I told you to get out of my property, didn't I?" said Draco, "And when I tell you to do so, you should do so,"

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Hermione slurred. "This is my house. You have no right to push me away!"

Draco sighed and tried to keep his temper in check. He rubbed his forehead. "We've been through this last night, Granger. I don't like repeating myself. OUT!"

He picked up Hermione's bags, shoved them at her and pushed her out of the picket fence and into the street.

"Go on! Walk! Shoo!"

Crookshanks attempted to claw at Draco's legs.

"Hey! Stop that, you fur ball! Go and follow your Mudblood master, go!"

"Let's go, Crookshanks!" called out Hermione. "Let's leave that loathsome ferret!"

With one last menacing glance, the cat followed Hermione into the street.

"Yes, that's it!" Draco shouted after them. "And don't ever come back!"

He watched Hermione's retreating back disappear at the bend of the road. Fully convinced that the girl wasn't coming back, he started jogging the other way and commenced his tour.

Draco jogged around the quiet neighborhood, passing lovely, medium-sized houses, huge trees and a few people, who he greeted with a polite nod and smile. He paid special attention to the young ladies who looked at him with flirtatious glances and sweet smiles. Draco returned the favor and just loved the sound of giggling they made once his back was turned.

He had to admit that it was a nice neighborhood. Clean and peaceful. Not much hustle and bustle. It took a good thirty minutes to reach the Leaky Cauldron, but since his business wouldn't require him to go back to the Wizarding World often, it wouldn't really matter. Perhaps he could just have the fire place at his new house connected to the Floo Network.

Draco continued jogging, until he reached the sea shore, a little ways away from the new house; in fact, he could just make out the back of the house from where he was standing. As his sneakers touched the fine sand, he stopped to breathe in some fresh air. The sea was a calm expanse of green and blue, rippling as the wind skimmed over its surface. The sky over it was a bright pastel shade of blue, too, with large, puffy clouds scattered around. Birds flew over him and the soft rustle of the leaves of the trees greeted his ears.

Draco closed his eyes. _Now this is the life,_ he thought. Though he was used to the grandeur and opulence of being a Malfoy, his dark past predominated by the bloody War made him yearn for something like this, something that contrasted with the blackness with which he associated the past years.

Opening his eyes again, he took a seat on the sandy shore and for minutes, he did not know how many, he stayed there and bathed in the rare halcyon.

The grumbling of his stomach was the only thing to remove him from his reverie. Deciding that he should better figure out how to feed himself, he stood up, dusted himself off, and jogged back to his house.

He had such a good time having a look at the neighborhood that all thoughts of Hermione Granger flew out of his mind. It was indeed a strange coincidence that she should own the house he was living in now. In fact, it was strange enough that he should see the girl again after four years. The last thing he heard about her was when Potter got married. After that, Granger just... vanished. No news, gossip, rumors, that he thought she had died in secret. Probably heartbroken that Potter ended up marrying Weasley's younger sister and not her. He certainly did not think of finding her in a quaint Muggle neighborhood, in a house by the sea, living in happy solitude.

He also did not think that after shooing her out of the house, Draco would find her again, lying on the wooden bench; the same position she was in before he kicked her awake. Draco couldn't believe his eyes as he pushed open the entrance of the white picket fence and found Hermione and her cat snoozing away as though they didn't have the yelling match half an hour before.

Draco's patience was quickly waning. He walked forward to where the girl was and kicked the bench again, as hard as he could.

"GET UP!"

Crookshanks' eyes flew open that instant and resumed hissing and spitting at Draco.

"Oh shut up, you stupid cat!" he yelled at the cat. "Hey! Granger! Stop acting and get up!" He kicked the bench once more. The poor bench rattled dangerously, as though another kick would split it in half. But its occupant remained unmoving. Eyes shut and curled up under thin shawls, Hermione Granger continued sleeping.

Draco's right shin was already throbbing with pain, his legs were tired and he was absolutely hungry. He then resolved to poke the girl awake.

"Granger! Granger!" he called out repeatedly, at the same time poking Hermione's shoulder. But the girl didn't budge. Crookshanks started to lick Hermione's face affectionately, purring mildly.

"Ew," said Draco, as he watched the cat spread saliva on Hermione's face. "Granger, you better wake up! Your cat is drooling on you!"

Draco's words were useless, for Hermione didn't even make the slightest movement or sound. He started to worry that the girl was dead. He stooped closer, careful not to put his face at Crookshanks' immediate reach, and verified that the girl, luckily, was still breathing.

_So why wasn't she waking up?_ he thought.

Suppressing his disgust, he slowly began to reach out to touch the girl, one eye keeping a close watch on the cat. The cat didn't try to claw at him, so he stepped closer and put his palm on Hermione's forehead.

_Shit. She has a fever!_ Draco thought, quickly withdrawing his hand and began panicking. He did not have the slightest idea what to do with a sick person, much more a sick Hermione Granger. What he did know was that she seemed cold and letting her lie on the bench wouldn't do her any good. He considered going inside the house and pretending that he didn't know a feverish girl was on his yard, but he wasn't aware if someone had already seen him with Hermione. If he left her there and she died, she would give him more trouble. Burying her body would require a lot of digging and soil under his fingernails. And if someone knew he had something to do with Hermione's disappearance, his career would crumble down. So there was only one thing left to do.

He brought out his wand and with a flick, flung Crookshanks away from Hermione and out the fence. The cat meowed indignantly. Now that the cat was out of the way, he pocketed his wand and started to lift Hermione from the bench. He decided to carry her into the house for he thought that her floating body would attract the attention he did not want at the moment. With much effort, he was able to haul Hermione completely off of the bench and into his arms.

Draco's muscles strained with Hermione's dead weight.

"God Granger, you're as heavy as an ox!" he muttered.

Turning around, he walked towards the front door and after much fidgeting with the knob, the door clicked open and he entered. As fast as he possibly could, he went into the living room and deposited Hermione on the couch, careful not to break any bones. After doing that, he returned to the bench and gathered all the girl's things, went back inside and threw them beside the television. By that time, Crookshanks had already made his way inside the house and took the position on the couch, close to Hermione's face.

"Disgusting cat," muttered Draco. He stared at the unmoving form of Hermione.

_What now?_ he thought.

Draco had been sick in the past, of course, but it's not like he was alone and took care of himself. He had seven servants at his beck and call, so when he was sick, he'd just lie down and let them do the rest. He never really paid much attention to what they did to him or what spells they used. As long as he'll recover and they make sure it doesn't hurt, he didn't care what they did. Same goes for his parents; when they were sick, the maids took care of them. And that took an instant. None of these shivering and moaning and acting all unconscious, like what Hermione was doing. Finally convincing himself that it was better to leave Hermione alone, Draco shrugged, sat on one of the armchairs closest to the couch, reached for the remote and turned on the TV.

The television was his newest obsession. After taking two hours just to figure out how to turn it on last night, he, since then, had fun watching the shows on the muggle contraption; especially those shows where the muggles acted all stupid: jumping off bridges, hanging themselves from 300-foot high cliffs and eating insects of every kind. Draco first thought that everything on the television was true and the thing was the muggle version of a scrying pool. But some of the things he saw were quite impossible for the muggle to do (like catching those lightning-fast deadly silver pellets by the hand, or flying); so he figured that the television was like a theatre presenting a thousand plays at the same time. He had to admit that muggles were pretty smart for having invented such an amusing form of entertainment.

He started to surf through the channels: some were cooking, some were punching one another and some were kissing. Draco was very intrigued about the kissing, so he stopped on a channel showing just that.

From the couch, Crookshanks began making those purring noises that annoyed Draco very much. He purred and meowed alternately, in that monotonous way which made Draco think of broken vinyl records.

Draco gritted his teeth. "Shut your trap, cat! Your master's not going to die,"

Crookshanks did not stop, though, and continued purring and meowing.

Draco stopped himself from throwing the remote control at the noisy animal. To vent his anger, he started surfing again, faster this time, his thumb rapidly pressing the change channel button, not even watching now but merely changing the channels, in the hope that the noise would drown Crookshanks' attention-getting sounds. Unfortunately, Crookshanks was louder.

Draco threw the remote on the floor in anger; it was a good thing that the whole living room floor was carpeted or the remote would've smashed completely. He stood up and faced the cat.

"What do you want me to do? I don't know anything about taking care of sick people!"

Crookshanks hissed at him.

"What? It's Granger's fault, lying there in the cold. I didn't tell her to do that!"

The cat stared at him as though to say: "Well, it's your fault she has no house anymore,"

Draco exhaled heavily and rubbed his eyes, for the lack of something better to do.

"Yes, just keep the towel on and I'll prepare some porridge for her to eat when she wakes up,"

It was the person on the television talking. Draco glanced back at the appliance and watched, to his relief, that the scene was that of a sick girl. Thanking Merlin for a solution to his problem, he whipped out his wand and conjured up a piece of paper and self-writing pen, resolved to write down everything.

He watched as the elderly lady sitting beside the sick girl washed a white towel in a shallow basin and after doing so, putting it on the forehead of the girl. He quickly did the same: he conjured up a basin and a white towel, and then made water flow from the tip of his wand. Setting the wand down on the coffee table, he tried to imitate the elderly woman's scrubbing motion. But because he had inexperienced hands, he gave it up soon and just wrung the water out of the towel, folded it and put it on Granger's forehead.

"What next?"

He watched as the lady arranged the blankets over the girl, making sure the thick cloth reached the girl's chin. He looked at Granger and her flimsy excuse for a blanket and quickly conjured a thick brown woolen one and made it fall on her, covering the girl and Crookshanks completely. The cat let out a meow of protest, so Draco reached out and lowered the blankets up to her chin, just like what the lady on TV did.

Returning his attention on the television, he watched as another lady (the one who had gone out of the screen a few moments before) came into the room, bringing a tray with a bowl of porridge and a silver spoon. Draco watched eagerly, waiting for further instructions on how to make porridge, but the girl continued sleeping and the ladies continued talking and then the TV showed a man selling a concoction that would "make you taller! Faster! Or you get your money back!"

"Hey! Bring the sick girl back!" Draco yelled at the television. "I don't know how to make porridge yet!" But the man didn't go away and he kept smiling for until ten minutes, and was then replaced by a girl with impossibly beautiful hair. Draco gritted his teeth.

"Great," he said, thoroughly irritated. And just when he thought his problems were solved, they became worse. He turned to Hermione, who was still sleeping. Her cat began purring noisily again. Draco stood up, finally, unable to bear the cat's sounds, and went into the gleaming kitchen. He pulled up a dining chair and sat on it.

Draco was exasperated. Not because he was clueless on what to do next. He knew what he was supposed to do; the only thing was he didn't know _how_ to do it. Scrubbing a piece of cloth and putting it on Hermione's forehead was one thing; cooking porridge was entirely another. He stood up and went to the cabinets, opening them one by one, looking for a cook book at the very least, the one he sees the cook use at the Manor. He came upon a cabinet full of it and was just about to whoop with joy when he looked at the cover and found out that they were _Muggle_ cook books, the kind where you actually need to mix everything by hand. Draco groaned and flung the book on the kitchen counter.

Now, his options were narrowed down into two: A) Leave Granger to starve to death and B) Learn how to cook and probably chop his fingers off in the process. Both were not very delightful to Draco but he had to do something. His eyes fixated on the book: _100 Recipes You Need To Know_. He picked it up again, opened it and started flipping over the pages. In page 215, below a huge picture of a steaming bowl of soup was the recipe for Perfectly Palatable Porridge. His eyes quickly skimmed over the ingredients and the procedures. Draco sighed.

"When you wake up, Granger, you're going to pay for this," he muttered.

Grabbing a pink apron with a strawberry in front, Draco started to work.

Back in the living room, Crookshanks found it hard to sleep. The sound of cluttering and clanking silver and a hundred plates being broken to pieces reigned over the whole house. He gave a particularly loud meow, as if to say "Do you mind? Trying to sleep here!" but he was barely heard over the din. The television was still on and was making noise of its own. Crookshanks jumped down from the couch, reached for the remote and started pouncing on the volume button with his paw, trying to pump it up. He decided that he'd rather hear the senseless talking muggles than Draco's disastrous attempt at cooking.

Three hours had passed before Draco emerged from the kitchen, sweat drenching his shirt and his hair all over his face, carrying a wooden tray with a small bowl containing something that was producing steam. Tired but proud, he carefully set it on the coffee table before the prostrate Hermione.

"Ha! I'm a genius!" he exclaimed, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Crookshanks, who was now sitting on Draco's armchair, gave a sound terribly like a snort. Draco looked at him mockingly.

"You're just jealous because you don't have hands and can't learn how to cook!" Draco smirked triumphantly. He grabbed the remote from under Crookshanks' paw and turned the television off. "Hey, you don't use my television, cat. Now, shoo! Get off my chair!"

At that moment, the telephone rang, startling Draco out of his wits.

"What in the---" he said, clutching his chest. The phone rang again and Draco looked at the apparatus on top of the side tables. He sighed in relief and picked it up. Dingle had already taught him how to use the Muggle machine, also the cell phone, telling him that they would be important if he was to conduct his business in the Muggle world.

"Hello," he answered in a deep voice, feigning his hesitation.

The line crackled. "Hello? Mr. Malfoy?"

"Who's this?"

"This is Cuthbert Dingle, Mr. Malfoy, sir,"

"Oh right. What is it?"

"Sir, I would just like to know when you'd be coming by, here, in the office," said Dingle's formal voice.

"What for?"

"Well, sir, it's your first day, sir. The people would like to meet you,"

"Well, I don't want to meet them,"

He heard Dingle clear his throat. "Well, sir, with all due respect, sir, you have your first board meeting today, sir,"

Draco looked at Hermione again. She had been pale before but color was starting to appear on her cheeks again. The shivering subsided, too, and she'd probably be awake soon. He looked at Crookshanks who was looking up at him evilly.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," he said finally and without letting Dingle finish his reply, he put the receiver down and ran up the stairs to get ready.

Draco decided that since he had already done what there is to do, it wouldn't hurt if he left Hermione alone for several hours. She's already a grown woman and she could handle herself. And as for the cat, he couldn't care less if it dropped dead at that moment. In fact, he _wished_ it would drop dead at that moment and spare him the trouble of having to look at it.

After a quick shower, he went into his large closet and picked up a handsome gray suit and silver tie. He combed his hair back, just like how he kept it when he was still at Hogwarts. After a couple more minutes of admiring himself in the mirror and thanking his genes for his gorgeousness, he went back down to the living room.

He went straight toward the couch and removed the white towel on Hermione's forehead. He laid his palm on it and felt that her fever had, indeed, gone down. He wet the towel once more, wrung it and placed it on Hermione's forehead again. He then walked to the sliding doors and with one last glance at the sleeping girl, went into the foyer and out the front door.

Draco walked to his silver car parked just outside the picket fence and got inside. His was a special car: a car installed with magic. A Wizard's car. He didn't even need to learn how to drive; he just had to tap the steering wheel with his wand, say the name of the place he wants to go to and the car would take him there, that was it. But Draco, having enough common sense, still made it a point to hold the steering wheel while he was traveling just to look like he was driving and that the car wasn't working by itself. He actually loved to act like he knew how to drive, mainly because he looked good doing it.

He now tapped the steering wheel, said "Malfoy and Maverick Consolidated, main building, Muggle London". The engine started and with a lurch, he was off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione groaned. Her back ached like hell. She knew it was because she was lying on a wooden bench in the front yard.

"Damn you, Draco," she muttered.

She clutched at the covers and snuggled deeper. She inhaled. She smelled something like porridge and her stomach resumed its grumbling. But that was impossible, for she was too far from the kitchen to smell anything remotely like food. But there it was. The smell of hot porridge. Hermione groaned again. She heard Crookshanks meow somewhere near her. She tried to shift position but her back really hurt. Good thing that the bench was soft...

Hermione tried to open her eyes. It wasn't easy for they were still heavy with sleep, but little by little they fluttered open and Hermione could just make out the dark stained glass of the coffee table. But there was no coffee table on the front yard. There was no carpet, either. And she could just bet that before she went to sleep, the front yard didn't have walls. After a few dazed moments, Hermione finally realized where she was and could hardly believe her eyes. She slowly sat up, taking in her surroundings at the same time. She was inside the living room, on the couch, with a very comfortable woolen blanket over her, instead of the thin shawls that covered her last night. Crookshanks was curled up on an armchair to her left, looking hungry but not cold. A wet white towel fell on her lap and she looked at it, also noticing the basin full of water on the coffee table. And beside it was a steaming bowl of porridge, just waiting to be eaten. Not even thinking if she was just hallucinating, she grabbed the bowl and the spoon and began devouring the porridge. It only took her six spoonfuls to empty the bowl. Crookshanks watched her with envy.

Hermione was so hungry that she forgot all about Crookshanks and apologized profusely for not leaving any porridge for him.

"Sorry, Crookshanks, I got a bit, er, carried away," she said, reaching out to the cat. Crookshanks jumped down from the arm chair and sat by Hermione's feet. She stroked his fur and smiled.

"Hey, let's go to the kitchen and see if there's more,"

Hermione put the blanket aside, stood up and made her way to the kitchen, all the while wondering what had gotten into Draco's head, letting her sleep on the couch like that and even leaving a bowl of porridge for her. She knew that she didn't exactly feel in tiptop shape at the moment and probably caught a slight fever due to being exposed to the harsh cold last night.

_Well, it's his fault I got sick,_ she thought, _maybe he got all guilty._ She smiled at the thought of Draco actually feeling sorry for her.

When she reached the kitchen, however, she got a bigger shock.

The whole place was in a mess: the counter was filled with used plates and utensils, rice grains were spilled on the floor, together with bits and pieces of meat and vegetables; the faucet was left running and there was still fire on the stove. Hermione hurriedly rushed to turn off the stove and the faucet.

"What happened here?"

Crookshanks meowed in response, as if to say: "Draco"

"What did he do?" continued Hermione, getting to her knees and picking up several cook books, already stained with God knows what. "Oh dear. Don't tell me he tried to cook."

From the state of things, though, Hermione could not find any other explanation. She pulled her wand out from her pocket and started to clean up the mess. Plates deposited themselves in the dishwasher, with the spoons and bowls; the vacuum cleaner started sucking in the stuff spilled on the floor. The cook books arranged themselves back on the cabinets and the rag wiped the counter vigorously.

Amongst all the din, Hermione fetched Crookshanks some milk and cat food, which the cat ate greedily in the corner. She also got some fruits for herself and for a good twenty minutes ate her fill of kiwis, oranges, apples, strawberries and melons, decided to make Draco pay for starving her the night before.

Though she had to admit, the porridge wasn't bad.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco was halfway there. But he still couldn't stop worrying about Hermione Granger. No, he wasn't worrying about _her_, per se; he's more worried about what she's going to do with the house. She'd probably throw a huge tantrum when she wakes up and then start thrashing the house. Or maybe she'd put all kind of spells on it so that he won't be able to get even ten feet from the house. Or she might start stealing stuff (she said she had no money) and _then_ burn down the house. Draco grimaced. Okay, maybe he was being too morbid. Besides, Hermione had said that it was her house, so she would probably not do anything stupid that would wreck the whole place. Still, Draco didn't feel any better. The cat was another thing. Draco hated that fur ball. And the thought that it had a free reign while Hermione was sleeping disturbed him the most. The car was just going to turn a corner when Draco tapped the steering wheel and said "Stop."

He sighed. The first board meeting was important, that he knew. But he could not possibly concentrate on business when a feverish Muggle/Witch was inside his house. Shaking his head, Draco tapped the steering wheel once again.

"Full House."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione burped. She hadn't eaten that much in a long time. Well, not exactly long, but she was hungry and it made her exaggerate. Crookshanks was also contentedly purring on her lap, after eating his fifth bowl of cat food.

"I feel full, don't you, Crookshanks?"

The cat purred in assent.

Hermione was just about to reach for another orange when she heard the rumbling of an engine. She stopped to listen. Seconds later, she heard the front door open. Hermione stood up, alarmed. She had been wondering about where Draco was but the food drove almost everything out of her mind.

_What am I going to do now?_ she thought, panicking.

As quickly as she could, she did what first came to her mind. She scooped up all the fruit peelings that could fit into her arms and stuffed them inside the fridge. She picked up Crookshanks (who fell from her lap in her panic) and ran to the living room, depositing the cat onto the armchair. As for her, she quickly jumped into the couch and covered herself with the blanket, just as Draco's head emerged from the sliding doors.

She heard his footsteps coming nearer and nearer. She kept her eyes shut, pretending to be still sleeping.

"Granger," Draco called. The girl was still asleep. He exhaled in relief. At least she hasn't done anything particularly vengeful yet. His attention turned to the cat. "Hey! Didn't I tell you to get off that armchair? Shoo! Shoo!"

At that moment, his eyes fell on the empty bowl on the coffee table. Draco's brow furrowed. If Hermione was still asleep, then who ate the porridge? He looked at the cat accusingly, but then remembered that cats don't exactly like porridge. Or do they? Maybe this one does. Unless...

Draco walked to the kitchen to confirm his doubts. And indeed, they were confirmed. The place was again spotless, definitely not the way he left it. Everything was back to their respective cabinets, and the bin was already full of trash. The counter was spotless except for a few rinds of orange. Draco raised an eyebrow. He didn't remember using an orange for the porridge. He approached the counter and looked closer. They were indeed orange rinds. He turned around and opened the refrigerator. And there, strewn everywhere were fruit peelings and leftovers, half-eaten apples and sliced strawberries. With gritted teeth, he made them disappear with a wave of his wand. He walked back to the living room and confronted Hermione.

"Granger. Granger, get up,"

Hermione groaned weakly.

"Wow, Granger, I didn't know you were such a great actress. Bravo," said Draco, starting to get angry. "Get up, Granger; I'm not going to say it again,"

"W-what is it?" answered Hermione, rubbing her eyes. "Is that you, Malfoy?"

"No, it's Santa Claus. Of course, Granger it's me. Get out of my house,"

"Huh?"

"I said get out. You had your rest and apparently, you also had your fill of my food. So go. Now."

Hermione was sitting now. "B-but I'm sick!"

Draco gave her a mock smile. "Aw. Too bad. Unfortunately, I don't care."

"But it's your fault I'm sick!"

"Well, if you could yell at me like that, I don't think you still are," snapped Draco. "Besides, I've already fed you and let you sleep. What else do you need?"

"My house! I need my house!"

"For the thousandth time, Granger, this is no longer your house. This is _my_ house. And I'm asking you, no, I'm _commanding_ you to get the hell out of it!"

Draco grabbed Hermione's things from the floor and headed towards the door.

"Where are you taking those?" Hermione demanded, following Draco, with Crookshanks at her heels.

"The same place you're going," And with that, he flung the bags on the front yard, pushed Hermione and kicked Crookshanks out. "Farewell, Granger," he said and banged the door shut.

Hermione stood there with her mouth open. She couldn't believe Draco's nerve, pushing her out of her own house. Crookshanks clawed at the front door but it was no use. She picked up her things from the wet grass and beckoned to Crookshanks to follow her.

"Let's go, Crookshanks, we have to find a place to stay in," she said sadly.

The cat purred at her, evidently not wanting to go, but was forced to follow Hermione as she went out into the road, leaving behind her beloved house.

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Next Chapter: Draco gets dumped. And everything starts at the banquet of the year.

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A/N: So….how was it? I worked really hard on it, so I hope a lot of people read it. Please R&R… it's my only consolation. Visit my blog, if you have time. To my kababayans, please read and review. It'll make me happy  Cheerio!


	4. The Agreement

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: Yes, I finished this quickly so as not to keep you hanging. I'm not getting a lot of reviews but hell! I'm writing for the fun of it. By the time this story is finished, they'll realize what they've missed. Heh heh.

Chapter 4: The Agreement

And there she goes.

Draco watched behind the curtains of the living room as Hermione and her cat set off, looking like the homeless rejects that they are. He couldn't believe that he's actually feeling sorry for the girl. Well, it wasn't her fault that she lost her house. But she's supposed to be smart, so why didn't she find a way to make it hers again? If insulting Draco and annoying him to no end was the only tactic she could think of, Hermione Granger's losing her touch.

Sighing, he walked towards the kitchen. Now that Hermione was out of his hair, he actually remembered that he had been hungry and as of this moment deeply craved for some pasta. He opened the fridge to see if he had any. His eyes spotted the left-overs of the fruits Hermione had eaten. He picked up an orange peel and he couldn't help but smile. He wasn't aware that Hermione could eat that much; but of course, the girl would've been starving. He gathered all the rinds in the refrigerator and dumped them in the bin. He opened the cabinet containing the cook books and found them perfectly arranged. He glanced at the dishwasher and was satisfied to see that the plates and bowls were neatly stacked inside.

_Granger is good at cleaning_, he thought, with a stab of guilt.

He closed the cabinet, went back to the living room and sat on the armchair littered with strands of Crookshanks' fur. His hunger had suddenly gone when he thought of Hermione. She had probably boarded a bus already, heading for God knows where. Or she had probably owled Potter to come pick her up. Or she'd already met a nice, charming guy offering her a ride.

Or she's sitting at a bus stop, and as of this moment, is crying her heart out over the loss of her house.

Draco felt another stab of guilt. He buried his face in his hands.

_For Merlin's sake, Draco, suck it up,_ he told himself. _Nothing's going to happen to Granger, and if something will, it's not your fault._

He told himself that he wasn't really concerned about the girl. That he couldn't care less. But something told him otherwise. Not that he'd gotten soft over the years, but Draco happened to know Hermione Granger; not that personally of course, unless you consider teasing and name-calling bonding time. And it's been years, they're not kids anymore; their grudge had taken too long. Besides, Hermione was probably telling the truth, that she didn't have anywhere to go. It _would_ be hard for a bushy-haired bookworm like her to make a thousand friends. Draco wouldn't be surprised if her cat was the closest thing she had for company.

Draco bit his lip. He knew what he had to do next. He just hoped he won't regret it.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Lightning struck. The wind blew fiercely on the tree tops and the sky darkened. It was going to rain.

Hermione wasn't paying much attention to the weather, however. She was busy thinking about where she was going to live. She was sitting under the waiting shed of the bus stop, bags on the cement and Crookshanks in her arms, crying from desperation. Hermione, Hogwarts' famous know-it-all, was out of ideas. It took her only a few minutes to realize that. She had no money and no house. The only thing that she could probably do was go into welfare, like a homeless beggar. But she vehemently refused to be a dependent. She thought higher of herself than that. Thoughts of Harry and Ron began to fill her mind. She wondered if they were happy, wondered what they were up to at that very moment and sincerely hoped that they were not going through the same ordeal as her. For a second, she considered returning to Wizarding London and asking for their help, but Hermione had sworn that after the War, she would have nothing to do with them ever again. Her choice to distance herself was not merely caused by her parents' tragic deaths, but by the feeling of tiredness she always felt when she remembered her life as a Witch. To her, the troubles and the heartaches there seemed like a vicious, never ending cycle, and if she wanted to get out of it, she had to forget. That was why she left. Just after attending her two best friends' weddings, she packed her bags, sent a few short letters of thanks and goodbye, and went home to Muggle London. There were times that she felt that pang of losing her friends, and every time, she forced herself to not dwell on it and used the same line of thinking she had with regards to her parents; she pretended that Harry and Ron were also on vacation, living in some far away land with no post, no computers for email and no telephones. Pretending barely comforted her, but there was no other way.

So now, she had no options left. She had to stick it out, come what may.

"This is it, Crookshanks, say goodbye to the neighborhood,"

At that moment, a bus stopped right in front of Hermione and a couple of people got out. The red-headed conductor emerged from the door.

"Ain't you boardin', miss?" he said to Hermione.

Hermione had gathered her bags from the ground and had already walked toward the bus, but stopped. Her mind wanted her to get into the vehicle but her feet were planted on the ground.

"We ain't got awl day, miss," the conductor added, scratching his nose.

Hermione sighed and looked back at the neighborhood. She felt like she couldn't leave it.

"I-I think I'll just wait for another...another bus," she said feebly, ashamed at making the bus wait.

The conductor shook his head. "Suit yerself."

And with that, the doors automatically closed and with a hiss, the bus took off.

Hermione let go of her bags and went back to moping. She looked at her shoes (strappy yellow stilettos) and saw that it was nearly destroyed.

"Oh no! My favorite shoes!"

"I didn't know you wore stilettos,"

The voice made Hermione snap her head up so fast she almost broke her neck. In front of her was Draco, inside a beautiful silver car, window down and handsome face grinning at her. Hermione's eyes narrowed instantly.

"Malfoy?"

"The one and only,"

"What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?"

Hermione blinked. His intention was beyond her.

"I don't know."

Draco laughed. "Boy, you're getting slower everyday."

"Ha ha," said Hermione, "If you have nothing better to do than insult me, get out of my sight,"

"No need for such cruelty, Granger. I'm here to save the day."

"What did you say?"

Draco beckoned to her. "Hop in,"

Hermione was flabbergasted. "Are you offering me a ride?"

"Yes,"

"And why would you do that?"

Draco sighed. "Quit the questions, Granger. Get in,"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I am not getting into a vehicle with you,"

"Please, Granger. I'm not interested in you,"

"Excuse me?" said Hermione, her cheeks burning, "You are the rudest, most arrogant person I have ever met!"

Draco exhaled. "Just get in, Granger. I know you want to. Your arms are tired, your feet are sore and your shoes are about to give out,"

"What do you care?"

"Well yes, I don't, but I'm going to give you an offer you can't refuse,"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"

"You ask a lot of question, don't you? We're going back to our house--- I mean my house," replied Draco. He looked Hermione straight in the eye. "I'm giving you ten seconds to get into this car, Granger,"

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't trust Draco and probably never will but she had to admit that she was curious. She found no reason to make Draco set a trap on her; he had everything and she had nothing. In short, there was nothing for her to lose. Hermione looked down at Crookshanks, who was sitting at her feet and giving her a glare that said "Stop thinking and get in; I'm hungry!"

"Five seconds, Granger," reminded Draco, revving up the engine.

Hermione rolled her eyes and bent down to get her bags. "Aren't you going to help me?"

Draco took one look at the heavy bags and the bedraggled Hermione and said, "Nah,"

With gritted teeth, she got her things to the back of the car, and had just lifted up Crookshanks when Draco spoke again.

"Couldn't you leave the cat?" he asked, with a little too much desperation.

Crookshanks hissed at him.

"Nope," Hermione answered simply as she walked to the other side of the car. "Wherever I go, my cat goes with me,"

"But the whole house is carpeted!"

Hermione opened the door and got in. "Shut up and drive,"

And they were off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Inside the car, Hermione carefully watched Draco.

"What?" he asked, probably annoyed at what Hermione was doing.

"I didn't know you could drive," she observed.

"Yeah well, there are many things I could do that you don't know about," Draco said smugly. Hermione decided not to dwell on his statement and spoke once more.

"I mean, you're a Malfoy and I know for a fact that you and your father just hate Muggles. And now I see you living in a Muggle neighborhood driving a Muggle car. What's up with that?"

"We merged with a Muggle company and I was asked by my father to manage it for him," replied Draco, as they turned a corner. "That's why I'm here. Enough explanation for you?"

"For now,"

But even after that, Hermione kept staring at Draco and this time, she had a nasty smile on her face.

"What are you smiling for?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione answered sweetly.

Draco looked at her. "I already told you you're a bad liar, so spit it out,"

"You think you could fool me, didn't you?"

"What?"

Hermione leaned closer. "You really don't know how to drive, don't you?"

Draco fought hard not to blush. "Of course I do, what are you talking about?" But his voice shook a little when he said it.

"Well, first of all, you don't use the gearshift,"

Draco wanted to blurt out "What's that?" but that would blow his cover. Instead he said, "Yes I do,"

"Oh really? Then go on, shift gears,"

Draco gritted his teeth. He had no clue as to what Hermione wanted him to do. He looked at the steering wheel, saw a little button on the side and pressed it without even thinking. Two thin rods began to move back and forth in front of him.

"What the--"

Hermione was laughing beside him, clutching at a stitch on her side.

"Shut up, Granger," admonished Draco, a pink tint coloring his cheeks.

Hermione tried to speak in between the laughs. "Th-those a-are wipers!"

"Wipers? What are they for?"

Draco wasn't able to stop himself. Hermione laughed harder. Draco was irritated; he gave a reason for Hermione to make fun of him. He wouldn't hear the end of this.

He kept his eyes straight on the road and remained quiet. Hermione's laughs had by then subsided. But the flush on Hermione's cheeks told him she was still pretty amused.

"Hey," she called out to him, "Hey, Malfoy! Are you pissed off already?"

"No,"

"Don't be; you're just too funny. Acting like a big bad driver and all that: 'Hey lookie girls, I know how to drive a Porsche!'" Hermione started sniggering again.

"Shut up, Granger or I'll kick you out of the car,"

Hermione suppressed her glee. "Okay, okay. Hey, do you want to know what wipers are for?"

Draco didn't speak, but Hermione continued.

"Wipers wipe. That's why they're called wipers. When it's raining, they keep the water from blurring the driver's line of sight," she explained, evidently glad that she knew something Draco didn't. "And the gearshift is this little rod here," she continued, pointing at the gear lever on the floor between them. "You use it to make the car go faster, slower or backwards. And the steering wheel, that round thing you're holding, you use to steer the car, you know turn from left to right---"

"I know that, Granger," Draco said finally. "I'm not that stupid,"

"Of course you're not,"

"Stop mocking me. Remember, I call the shots here. I have what you need, and you're not going to get anything good from me if you don't behave."

They had reached the house and both of them got out of the car.

"What exactly did you mean by that?" asked Hermione, as she started to haul her things out from Draco's car. Draco merely watched her, leaning casually on his vehicle.

"You said you had nowhere to go, right?" said Draco, "And the only thing you have in this world, aside from that disgusting cat, is this house. Am I right?"

"Yes,"

Draco checked his nails. "Well then, as you know, I've never been the philanthropist, in fact, I'm really quite the opposite and I don't do good deeds not unless I can get something from them,"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Your point is?"

"My point is, I'm letting you live in this house... on one condition,"

Hermione's heart jumped. Malfoys were known for cutting deals that seem okay at first but you end up regretting later. But as she looked up at her house, she knew that she was ready to do anything Malfoy says just to keep living in it.

She fixed Draco a cautious gaze. He was staring at her with a triumphant one. She had to admit that things didn't look good for her, but the way things were, things could probably not get any worse.

"C'mon, Granger, I'm offering you free food and lodging here... well, not exactly free..." Draco gave her a mischievous grin.

"What's the condition?" asked Hermione, dreading the answer.

Draco was smiling widely now, and his eyes casually went over Hermione from head to toe.

"I just need your body."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"I HATE YOU MALFOY!" Hermione yelled.

It was very early the next morning and Hermione Granger was in the middle of the posh living room, with a wet rag on one hand and a vacuum on the other. The entire living room was a mess; bags of chips littered the table, together with empty beer cans. Crumbs of bread and God-knows-what-else were sticking on the expensive carpet. One armchair was stained with red wine; and the windows looked like eggs were thrown at them. Hermione very much wanted to throw a full blown tantrum.

She and Draco had already agreed on how she would "repay" Draco for her stay in the house; though saying "I just need you body" wasn't exactly clear for Hermione. Draco elaborated further, telling her that the condition was to become his maid: clean the whole house, keep the yard, cook his food, the works. Hermione had already assented, knowing that it was going to be easy for her since she was a neat freak. But it turns out that there was still a catch: Draco prohibited Hermione from using magic when doing her chores. She was to do it manually. Hermione could not get out of it, of course, since her "yes" binded the agreement. Now, she was thoroughly convinced that Draco intended on killing her. He ordered her to wake up at five o'clock everyday and keep working until seven o'clock at night. If she had other things to do, she was to let Draco know about them and she should make sure that she would finish all the chores without fail. He also reiterated that Hermione's wasn't allowed to use magic when she's working and assured her that he will know if she did. And if he caught her, he would kick her out of the house. If that wasn't enough, Draco, with the use of magic, made the bed on her room disappear; he also took the lamps, the dresser, the carpet and the paintings; leaving only the closet and a lot of bare space. He said that Hermione should buy those things on her own and forced her to sleep on a spare mattress he _kindly_ gave her. She had wanted to strangle Draco the moment she saw the almost-empty room, but she thought that it was way better than lying on cold, hard gravel. So she slept on it; not comfortably, of course.

As for Crookshanks, Draco ordered for him to remain in Hermione's room. He was not allowed to wander in the halls, in the living room and any place with carpeting. If he wanted to poop, Hermione should take him out to another yard. If Draco found even a little bit of dung on his yard, he threatened to pull out all of Crookshanks' fur with his bare hands. He so hated the cat that at first, he said that Crookshanks should not be fed with cat food but with grass. Hermione argued vehemently of course, saying that she'd rather be homeless than starve her cat. In the end, Draco relented, but not without revenge.

And so it came in the form of the chaotic living room. Hermione had awoken early that morning only to find that Draco wanted her hands to get blistered on the first day. Hence, the reason for Hermione's loud retaliation.

Hermione continued to vacuum the carpet as best she could. In fact, she took out the more stubborn bits by hand and threw them in the bin. She had been cleaning for nearly two hours already and her back was aching. Her knees were rubbed and raw from kneeling, and her hair (though pulled from her face by a bandana) was knottier than ever. Her stomach grumbled for she had not eaten breakfast. She had already prepared Draco's breakfast, though, and because she cooked it a good one hour ago, it had probably turned cold, giving her another reason to hate him for sleeping in late.

"I hate you Malfoy!" she shouted again, for lack of a better way to vent out her anger.

She heard the sound of footsteps and moments later, the object of her ire came down to the living room, looking dashing in a blue pinstriped suit and black tie. Hermione, on the other hand, was wearing running shorts and an old West Ham football shirt that Dean gave her.

Draco looked at her, smiling, "No shouting in the morning, Granger. I see you're busy with work; that's good,"

"Screw you, Malfoy," spat Hermione. Draco merely smirked at her.

"Yes, good morning to you, too. Have a nice day!"

He made his way to the sliding doors and pushed them aside.

"Wait!" called Hermione. "You're leaving?"

"Why, missing me already?"

"B-but aren't you eating breakfast?"

Draco pretended to think about it. "Erm... No."

Hermione was outraged. "But I already prepared your breakfast!"

"Too bad, then. Maybe you could eat it; you look like you need it,"

And with a small wave, he was out and the sliding doors closed behind him. Lucky for him, the candleholder Hermione threw at him came a second late.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Draco! How delightful to see you!" Pansy Parkinson exclaimed as Draco entered her boutique in Wizarding London.

The boutique looked elegant and very haute couture. The walls were painted shimmering white and the floors were of white marble. Designer robes that Pansy made were everywhere. Pansy herself, wearing a flowy aquamarine robe with an intricately designed bodice underneath, was entertaining a customer. But when Draco entered the room, she left the customer with no second thoughts.

"How have you been?" asked Pansy, pulling Draco into a hug.

"Great, great. You look beautiful, Pansy,"

Pansy smiled. "Always the flatterer, aren't you, Draco,"

"I do my best," said Draco, smiling back.

"So, how is the house? Come, sit," she motioned Draco to take a seat on a high-backed purple armchair, and then sitting on another one after Draco had sat. "I do hope you find the place suitable. Living with Muggles is uncomfortable, I presume?'

"No, no, everything's fine-- except for the presence of Hermione Granger---"

Pansy gasped. "Hermione Granger? _The_ Hermione Granger from Hogwarts?"

"Yes, her."

"Why I haven't seen that girl for years! Is she living in the same neighborhood as yours?"

Draco nodded. "Much more than that; it seems that I bought her house,"

"You what?"

"The house that I bought was hers, she said, and was sold without her permission---"

Pansy furrowed her brow. "How could that happen?"

"Apparently, her new Muggle friends are a tad more idiotic than Potter and Weasley,"

"And you're going to have to move out again, I suppose,"

"No," said Draco, shaking his head, "We've already reached an…. agreement,"

"I see," said Pansy, smoothing the creases of her robe. "And what kind of agreement was that?"

Draco shrugged. "Oh, nothing important. Besides, I didn't go here to talk about Hermione Granger,"

"Really?" Pansy smiled. "Then what is the real purpose of your visit?"

"I was wondering if you were... available. Tonight. I'd like to... take you out for dinner," said Draco, slightly bowing his head and looking everywhere except at Pansy's face.

Noticing Draco's hesitation, Pansy laughed. "Draco, there is no need to be uneasy. You act like we're not friends. Of course, I accept your invitation. Tonight is perfect,"

Draco smiled. "Great. Really great. I'll pick you up then, about seven?"

"Yes, please. I'll be waiting for you, then."

"Oh yeah, by the way, I wanted to give you something,"

Draco handed her the paper bag he was carrying. She took it eagerly and extracted a box from it. The front of the box read "Motorola Razr".

"What is it?" asked Pansy, opening the box and lifting the gadget inside it.

"It's a cellular phone," explained Draco. "It's a Muggle communication device, their version of owl post and floo..."

"I see," said Pansy, thoroughly intrigued by the thing. "It looks very... mechanical,"

"Well, yes, I suppose it does. I have another one just like that. I gave it to you so you could call me anytime; so we could stay connected even though I'm in Muggle London,"

"Oh how sweet of you, Draco," crooned Pansy, giving Draco a peck on the cheek. "But I'm afraid I don't know how to use it,"

"Well, you should read the manual first," said Draco, pointing at the small book enclosed in the box. "It will teach you how to use it,"

"Oh yes. Thank you, Draco. It's a wonderful gift!"

"No problem. So... I'll see later?"

"Of course. I'm already looking forward to it."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A few minutes later, inside the Nibelung Jewelry shop, Draco was busily looking at the rings on the display counter. A man with extremely poufy hair was waiting on him.

"How about that one?" said Draco, pointing at a ring.

The man took it out eagerly. "Good choice, sir. Princess-cut pink diamond, very rare; polished white gold band, very elegant,"

Draco grimaced. "How about that other one,"

"This one sir, has an oval amethyst at the center, surrounded by eight round diamonds, nice thin gold band..."

"No no... I want something simple, but exquisite,"

"Ah! I assume you are looking for an engagement ring---"

"Are you stupid? I've been standing here for fifteen minutes and only now you realize I'm looking for an engagement ring?" said Draco, his agitation becoming anger.

"Sorry, sir," the man mumbled.

"Give me something made of platinum,"

"Right away, sir," replied the man and at once, busied himself in finding a ring that Draco might want.

Waiting was harder for Draco's nerves. He was not entirely sure of what he was actually getting himself into. He had no idea on how to do things like choosing a ring and planning an engagement proposal. He would very much have wanted it if someone did it for him. Unfortunately, there was no one. And if he didn't get this over with that night, his father was going to ruin it for him. He wasn't going to let his father interfere with his personal life. He'd rather propose to Pansy alone than if front of a hundred people.

The man faced him again, looking as though he had discovered a treasure chest.

"Here it is, sir." He presented the ring to Draco and he looked at it.

It was indeed a simple ring. It had a heart-shaped diamond at the center and two smaller round ones at each side, set in a shiny platinum band. After some minutes, Draco decided to buy it. When he emerged from the shop, the ring was safely inside his pocket.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

He told them he wanted candles. Lots of them; tall ones and short ones, floating ones and those on holders. He wanted privacy, so they closed down the restaurant and the entire place was only for both of them. He said he wanted the ring to be hidden in the dessert. In the middle of the black forest parfait glass.

They granted his every wish, and so the place, Le Maison de L'Amour, was set by six thirty. A little more than thirty minutes later, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, their only customers for the evening, arrived. The maitre d' took them to their table at the very center of the restaurant.

Pansy had quickly noticed the emptiness of the place and voiced this out to Draco.

"Draco, why aren't there other people?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps they're eating at another place for tonight,"

"And there is an awful lot of candles..."

"To create ambiance, probably,"

They reached the table and were seated. The maitre d' handed them the menus.

"Oh, I'd love some pecan pie for dessert---"

"No," Draco said quickly. "I, uh, I heard that their black forest parfait tastes better and it has, uh, less calories,"

Pansy nodded. "I see. Yes, I think I'd like to try that for a change,"

"The first course will be served after ten minutes, sir," said the maitre d' and bowed out, leaving Draco and Pansy to talk alone.

Or so they think.

Someone was peeping behind the wine bar. After watching the couple converse for a few minutes, she ran to the back room, where five other people, including the maitre d', were gossiping noisily.

"So? Is she pretty?" said one girl with a crooked nose.

"Oh Merlin, she is gorgeous!" squealed the pony-tailed girl who hid behind the bar. All of them laughed.

"I cannot believe that Draco Malfoy is proposing," said another girl, "I fancied him for such a long time!"

"Well, I say the two make a beautiful couple," interjected the maitre d', "A match made in heaven!"

"Where's the ring?" asked the girl with the ponytail.

"Here it is!"

All the girls shrieked as loudly as they could without being heard outside.

"It's so beautiful!"

"I bet it's very expensive--"

"Of course it is! He's a Malfoy; he's not going to buy a cheap engagement ring--"

"I wonder how much this cost,"

"Ooh! Let's take a picture!" said the guy wearing an apron (the cook) and he brought out a camera. The girl with the ponytail eagerly wore the ring and posed for her friends as the cook snapped away.

The din they were making did not reach Draco and Pansy's ears, however, and what was happening in there was unbeknownst to them. They continued talking and laughing.

"So what's the occasion, Draco?" asked Pansy.

Draco smiled. "No occasion. I just wanted to treat you,"

"Really? How thoughtful of you,"

"And I... I also want to tell you something..."

Pansy's eyes widened. "Tell me!"

"Erm... maybe later; during dessert..."

"No! Tell me now!"

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I really think we should wait till dessert,"

Pansy pouted, pretending to be angry. "You play with me, Draco... come on, you know I can't wait till dessert..."

"Now you have to," replied Draco with a smile.

The first course of the meal arrived shortly and Draco was able to divert the topic to something more trivial. Pansy went along but had that glint in her eye that told him she still remembered. They were almost finished with the meat course, just before dessert when Pansy brought up the topic again.

"You made me wait long enough, Draco. Now, tell me what you have to tell me," she urged.

Draco shook his head and kept slicing his steak. "It's not yet dessert,"

"But why does it have to be dessert? Why can't you tell me now? What is it about anyway?"

"You'll find out later,"

Pansy sighed. "Fine." She put down her knife and fork, reached out for her purse and opened it. "What time is it?"

Draco looked up from his plate. "I don't know. Is something the matter?"

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed Pansy, looking at her pocket watch. "It's nearly nine o'clock!"

"So?"

"I have to meet Blaise,"

Draco's utensils fell from his hands from surprise. "What? Why?"

"He went by the shop right after you left, and he asked me to meet him--"

"But you already agreed to meet me!"

"Yes, but I didn't think it would take so long," explained Pansy hurriedly. "I also committed to him, Draco, and I must not break it,"

The sound of the word 'committed' brought color to Draco's cheeks.

"No, wait, don't go--"

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I have to," said Pansy, already halfway up from her chair.

Draco reached out for her hand, pleading. "Please just... just stay until dessert and then you can go. It'll be quick, I promise--"

"I'm sorry, Draco," Pansy repeated. "Maybe next time."

And then getting her coat from the back of the chair, she stood up and left. Twenty seconds later, dessert was served. Draco stared at the black forest parfait and then bolted from his chair and ran after Pansy. it was a good thing that Pansy wasn't a fast walker and Draco was able to catch up with her a few paces from the door of the restaurant.

"Pansy!" Draco called, grabbing her arm violently.

Pansy was startled by the force with which Draco pulled her to him. "Draco, what--"

"Don't go to him," said Draco fiercely.

"What? Let me go, Draco--"

"No. You're going back to the restaurant and you will sit there and talk to me until I tell you to leave!"

The look in Draco's eyes frightened Pansy and she struggled to free her arm.

"I said let me go, Draco! You're hurting me!"

Draco held her for another minute and let her go. He looked so angry.

Draco was indeed angry. Blaise was not going to ruin this night for him; Pansy was his and he would not get her from him without a fight. He pulled at his tie to loosen it. The anger he felt made it hard for him to breathe.

He tried to coax Pansy again.

"Pansy, don't go to him,"

"Draco, you are being unreasonable--"

"No! He's unreasonable!" shouted Draco. "You're with me and he couldn't understand that!"

Pansy's temper was also rising. "What are you talking about, Draco? Stop acting like a child!"

"Me? Look who's running to Blaise without thinking about---"

"About what, Draco?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "Tell me, do you like him? Do you like him, Pansy?"

"Yes, I like him!" yelled Pansy. "And if he needs me, I will be there for him no matter what!"

Draco felt like his heart had stopped beating. He was speechless. All he could do was look into Pansy's eyes and see the truth in her words.

"Draco, please," Pansy spoke again, reaching out to touch Draco's arm. "Let me go to him. We could--- we could do this again another time---"

Draco knew he had been beaten. It would be useless to keep Pansy for himself. She was too strong a woman; whatever she wanted to do, she did. He can never stop her. Draco pulled away from her touch.

"Yeah. Sure. Next time." he said, more to himself than to Pansy.

Pansy kept staring at him guiltily. "Don't be angry, Draco, please. We could dine out again, right? Right? Maybe then you could tell me what you wanted to tell me,"

Draco gave short laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I'll just keep in touch... I'll call you on the bell phone--"

"Cell phone," corrected Draco.

"Yes, that's it." Pansy smiled. "But now, I have to go. He's... he's waiting for me,"

Draco nodded slowly. "Yeah, he probably is..."

"I'm really sorry. I enjoyed the dinner, though. Call me when you get home, okay? Thanks again, Draco."

After a quick wave and a smile, Pansy disapparated, along with the hope in Draco's heart, leaving him standing alone on the dark street outside Le Maison de L'Amour.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Foul...stupid...arrogant...ferret!" muttered Hermione as she scrubbed the book shelves vigorously with a wet rag.

It was another day of cleaning at the Full House. She had just finished vacuuming the carpeted floors, wiping the windows and dusting the vases and little sculptures when a scowling Draco came downstairs and demanded his breakfast. Hermione, who had learned her lesson from the previous day, did not cook any, expecting that Draco would get his breakfast somewhere else. So now that he demanded his food, Hermione could not give him any. Hence, another fight ensued.

"I should throw you out, you good-for-nothing bushy-haired know-it-all!" yelled Draco.

"Oh really? So now it's my fault that you're such a forgetful, arrogant ferret? Well, I say you deserve to starve to death!" yelled Hermione.

"Mudblood!"

"Death-eater!"

And so on and so forth. Their verbal swordfight went on until Draco threw a vase at her direction and ordered her to cook at that moment or her cat will get it. Hermione, who had fortunately ducked, was forced to obey. But the fight did not end there. Draco had insulted Hermione's cooking, too.

"What is this muck?" he said, spooning his soup.

"It's crab and corn, Mr. Almighty!" snapped Hermione.

"This looks like watery snake venom!"

"I wish it were so you would be poisoned to death!"

"Are you trying to kill me?" yelled Draco. "I'm not going to eat this!" And then he dumped the contents of the bowl over the dining table. "Cook something else!"

Hermione was enraged and her fingers itched to grab Draco's neck and squeeze until he turns blue. "How dare you insult my cooking? You don't even know the difference between a gourd and a radish and you act like it's so easy to do it!"

"Of course I know the difference between a gourd and a radish!"

"Oh yeah, like you know the difference between headlights and side mirrors!"

"Shut up and stop changing the topic! If I say cook, COOK!"

Once again, Hermione was forced to cook something else: porridge. The moment she had ladled some into a bowl and banged it down on the table in front of Draco, she left the kitchen and resumed her cleaning. She thought Draco had liked it because he didn't say anything when she left. But after he finished eating, he went to the living room, wand out and before Hermione could react, made cobwebs appear all over the place, even the ceiling. After a word ("Clean!"), he went into the back yard, sat on the wooden swing and began to read a magazine.

Hermione was left to do everything all over again. And so the line:

"Foul...stupid...arrogant...ferret!"

Hermione had just finished scrubbing the highest shelf when she glanced at the huge glass windows and saw an owl swoop towards their direction. She looked at Draco; but he seemed engrossed at what he was reading and did not notice the bird. The owl had by then entered an open window and landed on the coat hanger near the stairs. Hermione hurriedly approached it. The bird had a letter tied to its leg. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, wondering if it was from Harry or Ron.

_I wonder what it's about,_ she thought, as she started untying the cord that bound the letter to the owl's foot. As soon as she finished, the owl flew away, not even giving Hermione time to give it a pat of thanks.

Hermione looked at the envelope on her hands. It was made of smooth blue paper. She brought it to her nose and found that it was also scented. Flipping the envelope over, she read the words Malfoy Magical Banquet. There was a date and time. Turning it over again, she opened the envelope and pulled out a rectangular piece of white silken paper. It read:

**You are invited by Monsieur Lucius Malfoy and Monsieur Draco Malfoy**

**to the**

**Malfoy Magical Banquet!**

**A Night of Wonderful Celebration**

**Where: Malfoy Manor**

**When: 20th of August**

**Attire: Formal Wizarding Wear**

**We are expecting your presence!**

Hermione sighed and without even reconsidering, chucked it down the bin and continued cleaning, once in a while, glancing at the trash can. She didn't retrieve the letter from it, however, not until she had finished taking away all the cobwebs from the furniture and only the webs on the ceiling remained. Wiping her brow, she reached into the bin and pulled the letter out. While cleaning, she had conceived an idea. She thought that the banquet would not entirely be pointless and (though the invitation was probably not for her) it would do her good to attend. Not because she was breaking her sworn promise to return to living as a Witch, but she thought that since the Malfoys were the ones hosting the party, the guests would most probably be the leaders of the business industry; and like what the Malfoys did, have merged with some Muggle companies. Then it was very possible that they were associated with Muggle publishing companies. Thus, her connections would prove to be most fruitful. Her works would finally be published and that would enable her to pay back Draco sooner; she honestly believes that the two of them cannot live under the same roof in peace, even for just a week. With her mind settled, she was about to approach Draco and ask for his permission to go when she spotted a small brown box in the bin. Hesitantly, she bent down and got hold of it.

"What could this be?" she muttered, and chancing a quick glance at Draco to make sure he wasn't watching her, she opened the box and gasped. Inside was a beautiful platinum ring with a heart-shaped diamond at the center and two round diamonds at the side.

"What is it doing in the bin?" she wondered, taking the ring out and holding it out to the sun. After staring at it for a few minutes, she decided to let Draco know about it. With the invitation under one arm and the ring on her hand, she marched outside to where Draco was comfortably sitting.

"Hey Malfoy!"

Draco didn't move from his position and ignored Hermione's voice.

"Malfoy!" she called again. "Hey, Malfoy!"

Draco closed the book with a snap. "What?" he asked, irritated.

Hermione stood in front of him, smiling. "I found something,"

"Your brain?"

Hermione pretended to laugh. "Funny, Draco. No, I found this,"

She held out the small brown box and before Draco's eyes, opened it to reveal the ring he had thrown away.

Draco made a grab for it, but Hermione took it out of his reach. "Where'd you get that?"

"In the bin," Hermione said simply. "Is this yours?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "No. Give it here,"

Hermione walked further backwards. "You said you didn't own it, so why would I give it to you?"

"Just give it here, Granger!" demanded Draco, standing up.

"So it is yours. The design's too girly, don't you think?" she joked.

"I'm not kidding, Granger, I said give it to me!" Draco whipped out his wand.

Hermione raised her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Keep it easy! What is up with you today? Are you having PMS? Here,"

Hermione pretended to hand out the ring but got it out of Draco's reach at the last second.

"Can I have it?" asked Hermione, a grin on her lips.

"What? Of course not! You don't deserve a ring as expensive as that. Now hand it here!"

"No!"

"What?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Impatient and bad-tempered, Draco threw his wand down and lunged at Hermione and struggled to get the ring from her hand. Hermione fought back and kept her hand closed, despite Draco's strong grip. With all the strength he could muster, he pried Hermione's fingers from the ring. Hermione tried to pry Draco's hands off her hand, but Draco was stronger obviously and after much effort and screeching from Hermione, Draco was able to extract the ring from her. Without wasting another second, he flung the ring a good ways away.

Hermione shouted, "What did you do that for, you brainless git!"

Draco, breathing heavily, did not reply and sat back down the swing. She was not going to give up easily, however, and hounded Draco.

"That was an expensive ring! If you didn't want it, then you could've given it to me! You sure know how to waste money, don't you?"

"And what do you know about wasting money when you don't have any?" said Draco coolly.

He watched Hermione stomp her feet in frustration.

"Stop stomping, Granger, you're destroying your little blue envelope," he pointed out, setting his eyes on the grass where the envelope lay under Hermione's feet.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Hermione, quickly bending down to retrieve the envelope. She carelessly wiped it with her shirt.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's that? A letter from Potter?"

"No," replied Hermione, still trying to scrub the grass stains from the envelope. "It's an invitation,"

"Who in their right mind would invite you for anything, Granger?"

Hermione glared at Draco. "You want to know who? You."

Draco laughed. "Me? What are you talking about?"

"Malfoy Magical Banquet," Hermione read from the envelope. "As far as I know, there's only one Malfoy family in existence; thank God,"

Draco's brow furrowed, and then he remembered. "Oh that. That's not for you."

"Well, actually, it doesn't say to whom it is for,"

"So? It's not like the banquet concerns you,"

Hermione smiled at him. "Actually it does. I want to go,"

"You what?" said Draco incredulously. "And why would you do that?"

"So my works would get published,"

"Works?"

"I'm a writer now," explained Hermione, "and I'm looking for publishing companies to publish the stuff I've written,"

"Hermione Granger, a writer; never would've though you had it in you," said Draco sarcastically.

Hermione chose to ignore his comment. "So, can I go?"

Draco flipped open the magazine he was reading. "No,"

"What?"

"No."

"Why?"

Draco sighed. "No reason, I just want to keep you miserable,"

"Aaarrgghh!" said Hermione angrily. "You are the most stuck-up person I have ever met!"

"Insult me for as long as you like, you're still not going,"

"Yeah well, that's what you think!"

Without warning, Hermione kicked the wooden swing, causing Draco to fall from it, to the ground, face first. After making a triumphant "Hmph!" she ran back to the house before Draco could catch her.

"Granger!" Draco called out in pain, clutching his knee. "Come back here!"

But Hermione ignored him, thinking that he deserved the pain he was in. His words were not going to stop her, too. She will go to the banquet and that was it. Screw Draco.

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Next Chapter: The marriage proposal we've all been waiting for!

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A/N: So, it was a bit longer than expected, but that's good, right? I hope I get a lot of reviews for this one…Oh by the way, thanks to all my reviewers! Hugs to you all. To OrgnlAmagic, you'll find out why it's called Full House. But you have to wait a bit  Ciao!


	5. We're In Trouble

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: College is beginning to take its toll. From now on, you may have to wait a while before updates. Really sorry, but I can't do anything about it. So anyhow, I hope you enjoy this…. R&R!

Chapter 5: We're In Trouble

"Yes! Yes!" Hermione shouted with joy, as she held the manuscript of her first novel in her hands. "I've finished it!"

In fact, that wasn't the only thing she had finished that day. She had also cleaned the house from top to bottom. She cleaned it so well, Draco couldn't say anything to insult her cleaning abilities, which Hermione thought was a first. After that, she went directly to work on her novel, even forgetting to eat lunch (nevertheless not forgetting to feed Crookshanks). It was late afternoon and at last, after almost a year of hard work, she finished it, and the 345-page romance novel was now carefully put inside a white envelope. Hermione cradled it in her arms, like she would her first child, her lips in a wide smile.

Draco entered the living room and saw Hermione, at once taking the opportunity to get into her nerves.

"Congratulations, Granger! You're officially insane!" he teased, walking towards the girl who was standing by her computer on the corner of the living room. Hermione was too happy to snap back and merely smiled at Draco.

"What's that?" Draco asked, trying to grab the envelope from Hermione.

Hermione protectively pulled it from Draco's grasp. "It's the manuscript of my first novel and the only way you can get it is over my dead body,"

Draco laughed. "Yeah right. Like I'd want to read something you've written." He plopped on the couch. "I bet it's a lame story about a flobberworm who fell in love with a leaf of cabbage,"

Hermione pretended to be confused. "Flobberworm? Oh no, Draco, unfortunately, this story isn't about you,"

"Ha ha, Granger. Almost got me there,"

"You know what? I don't care what you think. This novel is going to get published and when I'm rich and famous, I'll conquer the world and send you to Mars," said Hermione, turning off her computer.

"You surprise me, Granger. I thought I was the only one in this room with ambitions of world domination,"

"Well, you don't know me, so buzz off."

Draco yawned lazily. "I will soon enough. I'm going to the banquet tonight..."

"Oh right," said Hermione, pretending she had already forgotten about the event. "That's going to take long, right?"

"Not long enough to get rid of you, unfortunately,"

Hermione threw a candle at him. "You think you're the only one who isn't happy in this situation. Well, you're wrong. When my writing career takes off, I will too, and I can't be happier." With one last glare at Draco, Hermione went into the kitchen.

Draco looked at the computer table and found another thick white envelope. He stood up and went to it.

"Hey Granger! You left your precious manuscript!" he shouted.

"That's a copy! I've got the original with me!" answered Hermione from the kitchen, "But don't dare touch it or I'll kill you!"

Draco smirked and picked up the manuscript. It was entitled "The Room of Innocence". He really wanted to know what it was about, but his pride got in the way. Glancing around to make sure Hermione wasn't looking, he brought out his wand then tapped the manuscript and it vanished. Whistling, he walked away from the computer and climbed the stairs to his room to get ready.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the ravenous Hermione had whipped something up for herself to tide her over. While eating, she was already planning how to convince the publishers in the banquet to let her sign a contract. She was thinking so hard that she didn't notice the wrappers and fruit peelings that were starting to pile up on the counter in front of her. For thirty minutes she ate, while Draco was upstairs, admiring himself in the mirror half of that time. Hermione emerged from the kitchen the same time Draco went down the stairs, dressed in black formal wizard robes.

"I'm going," Draco said, as he made his way to the door. He was about to push aside the sliding doors when Hermione stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm opening the door, what does it look like?"

"Why?"

"Is that a trick question?" replied Draco, annoyed by Hermione's pointless questions.

"I mean why do you have to open the door when you can just apparate," elaborated Hermione. "Don't tell me you're planning to drive the car to the manor?"

Draco snorted. "Drive the car? Of course not. I'm opening the door because you can't apparate or disapparate in this house,"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really? I thought you couldn't apparate to go in but you could once your inside---"

"No. I'm making sure none of your freak wizard friends would get in and wreak havoc," snapped Draco. "Now that you've wasted enough of my time, can I go now?"

Hermione grimaced. "Fine! I hope you land into a ditch,"

"You wish," answered Draco and banged the sliding doors behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione hurriedly went to her room upstairs and locked the door. Then, she opened her closet and rummaged for some nice robes to wear. She figured that Draco couldn't do anything if she showed up at the banquet, for fear of his father who didn't know they were living together. Entry wasn't a problem because she had an invitation. The only thing she was worried about as of that moment was what she would wear. She wanted to look decent, respectable; someone the publishers would trust enough to take her word and accept her works. But unluckily, since she had lived in the Muggle part of London for years now, her wizard wardrobe was, let us say, not up to date. She looked sadly at the robes she wore at the Yule Ball years ago. Shaking her head, she shoved it aside and rummaged some more.

Time elapsed quickly and Hermione still had nothing to wear. She squatted on the floor, disappointed that her chance to be free from the monopolizing Draco was thwarted by the lack of decent dress robes. She looked at her old dress robes again. It didn't exactly look old; in fact, if it only fit her, Hermione would have no second thoughts of wearing it. She crawled to the mattress and picked up the robes. Standing up, she took off her shirt and shorts and attempted to wear the robes. Unluckily, she couldn't even get it past her head. She sighed heavily and bowed her head. She saw her wand lying on the floor as she did. At that moment, an idea struck her. Smiling, she picked up the robes again and started to work.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The banquet was turning out to be a success. About 3/4 of the people invited were seen chatting and drinking with the others. The garden of Malfoy Manor was packed. Tables and chairs draped with red silk covered the grounds. Floating yellow balls of light served to illuminate the darkness of the night. A string quartet was playing in the corner of the large buffet table. The who's who of Wizarding London was present and at the moment, were busy boasting the new jewelry and clothes they had worn for the night. Draco found this extremely boring and spent his time milling around and trying to avoid his father, because he knew that Lucius did not forget what Draco had promised him days ago. He occasionally exchanged a few polite words and waves to those who bothered to acknowledge his presence. While doing so, he kept one eye out for Pansy. She ended up not doing the things she promised him she would do: like call him or invite him to dinner. Draco started to think that Pansy was avoiding him because of what had happened. The thought made Draco want to break Blaise's neck.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," A voice said behind Draco. Turning around, he saw a tall, imposing man with shoulder length black hair smiling at him.

"Ah, Mr. Isaac Rochester," said Draco, smiling and offering his hand for a shake. "It's nice to see you made time to come,"

Isaac Rochester was one of his father's most cunning business advisers. He was the one who took care of mishaps and the one who made sure they would not happen again. He was a wise, quiet man whom Lucius had trusted to assist Draco in their new business venture; in fact, he was the one who had suggested that MWC merge with a Muggle company to expand its business empire. During the days when Draco was too busy quarreling with Hermione or trying to figure out how to get Pansy to marry him, he represented Draco in the board meetings and made sure that everything went as smoothly as Lucius had wanted.

Since Rochester was very close to Lucius, it is surprising that Draco has not developed any ill feelings towards him. For Draco, he was a shrewd tactician and an invaluable asset to the company but he still managed not to interfere with Draco's personal life and rarely asked him about it, unless it concerned business; something quite opposite to what his father did.

Rochester shook Draco's hand amicably and seemed sincerely pleased to see that for once, Draco was not occupied with disobeying his father.

"How nice to see you, too," he said. "I hope you received the owl I sent the other day, about the upcoming launch the board wanted to hold next month?"

"Ah yes, I have. It's a good idea. But the plan still needs some polishing,"

"We decided not to finalize everything; we wanted to wait for your opinions,"

Draco smiled, trying to hide his guilt; he had not attended even one board meeting yet. "Yes, I will drop by tomorrow, I assure you,"

Rochester nodded. "Then we will be waiting."

"Oh, before I forget, there is something I wanted to give you," said Draco, reaching inside his robe pocket and extracting a white envelope. "Here,"

Rochester took it and looked at it curiously. "The Room of Innocence?" he asked, reading the title written on the front.

"It's a novel. A friend of mine wrote it and I was hoping you would find interested publishers to read it,"

"A novel? And may I know who that writer friend of yours is?"

Draco grinned. "I'd rather not say until you find the publishers. You will find some, I hope?"

"Of course. I will inform you about it when I do,"

"Thank you," said Draco, giving Rochester a pat on the shoulder. At that moment, he saw an awfully familiar back, standing in front of the buffet table just behind Rochester. Squinting, he realized that he was looking at Hermione Granger. It looked like she was wearing a tightly-fitting, knee-length periwinkle dress with billowy sleeves.

"Erm, I'm a bit...thirsty. Do you mind if I leave you and get something to drink?" he asked Rochester.

"Go ahead, Draco. I'll just see you tomorrow?"

Draco smiled and nodded, then left the man and walked briskly to the girl that wasn't supposed to be there.

Hermione, with her back to him, was busy stuffing herself with all the food that could fit her plate. She was munching on a tempura when Draco reached her and whispered viciously in her ear.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Hermione was startled and almost let go of the plate she was holding. "Malfoy!"

"Put down that tempura,"

"What?"

"I said put down that tempura!" Draco tried to reach out and take the shrimp from her right hand, but Hermione walked backward.

"Why would I? It's delicious; you should try it," She brought her attention back on the buffet table and pretended that Draco was not standing beside her, seething.

"Granger, do not annoy me," he hissed. "I told you not to go here,"

"So what if I did? It's no big deal," answered Hermione, munching on a chocolate-dipped strawberry and not even looking at Draco. "Look, let's just pretend we don't know each other. You do your business and chat with your pureblood buddies and I'll just stay here and eat. It's not like we have to tell all of them we're living under the same roof---"

"Shut up!" admonished Draco, becoming nervous at her mention of their current situation. Draco was sure Lucius was going to slit his throat if he found out about it. "And what are you wearing? This is a banquet, not a strip club!"

Hermione glared at him. "These are dress robes for your information. I wore them during the Yule Ball, remember?"

"And why d'you think I would? Did you think I actually _looked _at you during that ball?" answered Draco, not admitting that he actually remembered the dress. In his memory, they were the dress robes that made him realize that Hermione was a girl.

"What I wear is none of your business. If you don't have anything nice to say, I suggest you stay away from me. And take your hands off that crabstick!" added Hermione, swatting Draco's hand as he reached for a piece.

"We'll talk about this later," Draco said in a menacing voice. "Just make sure you don't do anything stupid." He then got a glass of champagne and walked away. Hermione merely shrugged and continued eating.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco had been sipping his champagne and thinking how he would punish Hermione for disobeying him when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned around and his heart shot up to his throat. It was Pansy, looking particularly ravishing in white robes. She smiled a bit shyly.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said, noticing that Draco had just been brooding.

Draco tried to smile but all his nerves permitted was a small grin. "No, of course not. You look great, as always."

"Thank you," Pansy returned with a wide smile. "I hope we're okay..."

"Okay? Oh, yeah. Sure. We're okay. Okay. We're okay. Right?" Draco mentally kicked himself for being such a blockhead. Pansy didn't seem to bother about his babbling.

"I feel really guilty for not calling you or sending an owl. It's just that I've been busy with the boutique. Half of the people here are my clients, you know. I know I'm making petty excuses again... I'm sorry." She fixed Draco with an apologetic look and reached for his hand.

The warmth of her palm contrasted with Draco's marble-cold one. The familiar feel of their hands together eased Draco and for the first time that night, he genuinely smiled.

"No need to be."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione had finally drifted away from the buffet table. She decided that with a dress that tight, she should watch what she was eating. She couldn't imagine facing the publishers with a large stomach as though she was four months pregnant.

She walked around, trying to spot people who looked like rich wizards who had Muggle publisher friends. After some time, Hermione realized that merely looking would be fruitless because all of the people in the banquet looked like rich wizards with Muggle publisher friends. And since she was afraid that someone who knew her was among the crowd and would spot her and ask her where she had gone, she went to a quieter part of the grounds. She selected a spot just behind a particularly large hedge shaped like a dolphin and took a seat on the metal bench just under it.

Hermione looked up at the dark blue sky shimmering with stars and sighed. She had never been to the Malfoy Manor before. She had heard about it, of course, from her classmates in Hogwarts. And Draco had always boasted about it, saying that it was half as large as the school with great mullioned windows and a gigantic gate made of pure wizard gold. Hermione had never entirely believed Draco, partly because his description of the manor seemed too fantastical and mainly because he was a liar. But now that she was sitting on a bench right inside the manor grounds and she had seen for herself just how huge the manor was and just how gargantuan the golden gates were, she could only smile in awe. She clutched her bag tighter as a gust of the cold wind passed her. The air smelled of orange and grass.

"Hermione Granger? Is that you?"

Hermione's heart jumped at the voice, confirming one of her worst fears that someone from Hogwarts had come and had finally spotted her.

She turned her head slowly and saw, though it was a bit hard to, the profile of the grown Blaise Zabini, in dark blue robes that perfectly matched the blue eyes looking at her with curiosity and surprise. A grin was on his thin, delicate lips. As he stood there, the wind blew again, ruffling his jet black hair. Hermione felt her jaw drop.

He laughed lightly; a laugh she had never heard him give before.

"I can't believe it. Of all the people I would see tonight,"

Blaise walked toward her slowly as though trying to ascertain that it was really her. Hermione felt self-conscious all of a sudden and stood up quickly. The moment they were about a foot away from each other, Hermione was happy she decided to stand up, or Blaise would've towered over her; he had grown awfully tall since their teenage years; and more handsome, too.

Hermione could only smile. She was left speechless, for once, as she stared at the boy she didn't even pay attention to years ago.

Blaise noticed Hermione's loss of words and decided to fill the silence.

"How have you been? It's been years, hasn't it?"

Hermione merely nodded.

"I see you've changed," he continued in an amused voice, "You've become quieter... and more beautiful."

Hermione felt the color rush up to her cheeks. "Th-thank you. You, too--- I mean, you look, er, nice--- I mean---"

Blaise laughed again. "No need to be shy, Hermione. It's just me." He motioned for her to sit back down again. She sat and he sat beside her.

Hermione had already expected that he would start asking her questions about the past four years, what happened to her, why did she leave, etcetera etcetera. So she was quite surprised when he didn't ask about the past. In fact, he didn't say anything and for minutes they just sat there, staring at the stars, enjoying each other's quiet company.

When another particularly strong gust of wind hit them again, Blaise spoke.

"Are you cold?" has asked kindly, looking straight into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione, who had been rubbing her arms to keep warm, stopped suddenly and tried to look as though the temperature didn't affect her. "I'm fine! I'm perfectly warm, thank you." But her teeth rattled slightly when she spoke. Blaise smiled and moved to take off his coat.

"Oh no! Don't!" said Hermione, holding her hands up for him to stop. "I'm fine... really I am." She smiled to reassure him.

"Really? Because you're lips are turning blue,"

"They are?" Hermione quickly touched her lips.

Blaise laughed again. "I'm kidding." With his hand, he gently held Hermione's wrist and brought down her hand which had been touching her mouth.

Hermione felt herself blushing again, so she looked at the other direction, hoping that Blaise didn't notice.

"So, what's keeping you busy these days?" she inquired, trying to stir up a conversation.

"Well, I've been handling family business. In fact, I'm in charge of everything here in London," explained Blaise.

"Wow, really? Who's helping you?"

"Nobody," he answered, grinning. "Nowadays you have to hold up on your own,"

"You don't know how much I agree with you," replied Hermione. They both laughed.

"How about you? What have you been up to?" asked Blaise.

Hermione decided to leave out Draco in her answer and simply told him that she was a writer.

"A writer?" said Blaise, seemingly very interested. "What do you write, exactly?"

"Fiction. Novels, basically. Short stories, too," said Hermione proudly.

"Really? And how is it going?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly the way I imagined it would go, but I'm working on it."

Blaise nodded. "Right. You know, I'd like to help you,"

Hermione beamed. "Really? Do you know a Muggle publisher that could get my works published?"

"No I don't," said Blaise. Hermione's face fell at this, but Blaise wasn't finished yet. "But I own a publishing company. Do you think that would help?"

Hermione jumped up from her seat in glee. "Are you kidding? You own a publishing company?"

Blaise shrugged. "Yes. But its' not muggle. It's a Wizarding publishing company, and as of this moment, I'm looking for a writer who could provide us with weekly serials. And you said you write short stories and novels---"

"Yes!" exclaimed Hermione. "Yes I do! Oh my God, you are an angel!"

Blaise laughed. "Well, it depends on how you define angel,"

"You know what, I have a copy of my very first novel here," Hermione said hurriedly, barely containing her excitement. She pulled out the white envelope from her bag and handed it to Blaise, who read the title and looked intrigued. "You can have it. You could read it and you know, probably give me feedback,"

"Yes, I would do that,"

"I can give you a synopsis right now, if you want," volunteered Hermione.

Blaise smiled again. "Bring it on,"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"So then, she tells him, 'No! Don't go! I love you!' And she runs after the guy and wham! She gets hit by a truck!"

Hermione was in the middle of her very animated synopsis and Blaise watched her with amusement written all over his face. They both didn't know just how much time had passed. And personally, Hermione didn't care. Now that she had found the person that would save her from Draco's dictatorship, she felt so happy she just had to let it out.

"And then, the guy looks back and sees her lying on the ground unconscious; so he runs back and calls out 'Carmina!'" Hermione said this with all the energy and hand movement that the champagne inside the glass she was holding swirled violently, threatening to spill at any moment

Blaise laughed and clapped his hands. "Hermione that is so funny!"

Hermione was stopped by this remark. "Funny? But--- but this is a romance..."

Blaise suddenly stopped laughing, too and suppressed a smile. "Oh right. Yeah, what I meant was, erm, it was entertaining,"

Hermione laughed weakly. "Right,"

A waiter holding a tray of empty champagne glasses approached them.

"May I take your glass, ma'am?" he addressed Hermione.

"Oh okay, here," Hermione held out the glass and was about to put it on the tray when her fingers slipped and the champagne spilled on the front of her dress.

"Oh my gosh!"

"Hermione!" Blaise stood up quickly and moved toward her. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my dress," answered Hermione, trying to rub the liquid off her dress. "I hope it doesn't stain,"

"I am awfully sorry, ma'am," muttered the waiter, bowing apologetically.

"No it's okay," Hermione said, dismissing his apology with a wave. "It wasn't your fault." She smiled at the waiter and he left them.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" asked Blaise concernedly.

"Of course, it's just a spill,"

"Here, let me help you," offered Blaise. He got out a handkerchief and gently rubbed the stain just above her navel. Hermione felt her cheeks turn red.

"Blaise..." started Hermione, but they were interrupted when a voice called Blaise, too.

"What are you doing?"

It was Pansy, and the look on her face was a mixture of curiosity and jealousy.

"Hermione Granger? Is that you?" she added, noticing Hermione. She drew near them and fixed them both with a questioning gaze.

"Hello, Pansy," greeted Blaise, withdrawing his hand from Hermione. "It's nothing. Hermione spilled champagne on her dress. I was just helping her clean up."

Pansy turned to look at Hermione. Hermione gave her a feeble smile.

"Hi Pansy! Nice to see you again."

Pansy looked at her from head to toe before returning the smile. "Hermione, you look... different,"

"Er, thanks. So, um, I better go to the ladies' room to clean up." Hermione turned to Blaise. "I have to go. Thanks for listening and I hope you like my novel,"

"No problem," answered Blaise with a wide grin. "I'll just send you an owl, then,"

"Yeah. So, erm, bye. Bye Pansy," said Hermione and she retreated, leaving the two alone.

Minutes passed before Pansy began to speak.

"I really don't understand you, Blaise," she said coldly.

Blaise's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"How could you do this to me?" Pansy continued, her voice trembling and tears shining in her eyes. "Can't you see that I like you?"

"Pansy---"

"No! I can't take this. I will not be ignored, Blaise. You can't play with my feelings like you do with your women." Pansy had her fists clenched at her sides.

"Pansy, you don't understand," said Blaise, trying to explain. "You're special to me but, I can't--- I don't---"

"What? What do you mean you can't? You can't like me?"

"It's complicated, Pansy---"

"Try me," Pansy demanded.

Blaise sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Pansy, don't be stubborn,"

Pansy gave a sound of indignation. "Me? That's not enough explanation for me, Blaise. I'm not going to stop asking until you tell me why!"

"It's Draco," mumbled Blaise.

"What about Draco?"

"Pansy, couldn't you see that he loves you?"

Pansy looked like she was slapped. She had to blink a couple of times.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's liked you since we were children, Pansy."

"So that's it? That's the reason why you can't like me?" Pansy was already yelling.

"Pansy, please---"

But Pansy didn't heed Blaise. She furiously wiped the few tears that had fallen and turned her back on Blaise.

"Pansy! Where are you going?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was late. Draco looked at the time on his watch. He craned his neck, looking around for Hermione. It took him a few minutes before he spotted her, making her way to the buffet table. He approached her and grabbed her arm.

"Hey! Let me go!" demanded Hermione, struggling from Draco's grip.

"We're going home. It's late."

"I can go home by myself, thank you very much."

Draco let go of Hermione's arm. "I said we're going home. So shut up and follow me,"

"You have no right to boss me around, Malfoy,"

"Of course I do. I feed you, remember?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why you stinking, arrogant, lazy---"

"Draco!"

Both Hermione and Draco's heads turned towards where the voice was coming from. It was Pansy, and she was walking briskly toward them, Blaise at her heels.

"Pansy, don't do this," they heard Blaise say to Pansy. Pansy acted as though she heard nothing.

"What's going on, Pansy?" asked Draco as soon as she was near enough. People who had been milling around had started to watch them.

Pansy glared at Draco, with resolve in her eyes. "Draco Malfoy, are you in love with me?"

Draco was taken aback with the question. Even Hermione's eyes widened. The crowd around them began to grow large.

"Pansy, stop this," pleaded Blaise, touching Pansy's shoulder, but she shrugged him off violently.

"I don't understand---" began Draco, completely confused. He looked at Blaise but his only answer was a shake of the head.

"Answer me, Draco, are you in love with me?" yelled Pansy.

Draco looked her in the eye and knew that this time, he couldn't escape. In the corner of his eye, he saw his father, mother and Hermione watching the exchange with shock.

"Pansy---"

"Answer me!"

"I love you!" Draco shouted back, still keeping eye contact with Pansy. "I love you so much, Hermione!" He grabbed Hermione's arm, and then planted his lips firmly on hers.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, Hermione was merely staring at Draco and Pansy; the next, she felt a pull and before she could blink, Draco was kissing her. His soft lips were pressed on hers, and all she could do was close her eyes.

A whirlwind of emotions filled Hermione. She felt like she was spinning and all she could hear was the beating of her heart. Draco's expensive cologne filled her nostrils. A few tendrils of his blonde hair caressed her left cheek. His hand was awfully cold on her wrist. Hermione stopped herself from reaching out and touching his face. All her senses seemed to hold on to that moment, that it took her some time before she realized that Draco's lips were no longer on hers. She opened her eyes slowly and she met his gaze. Silver orbs streaked with blue and gold stared at her with both surprise and curiosity.

"Narcissa!"

Lucius' voice shattered the semi-trance that enveloped the crowd. All turned their heads and as they saw Mrs. Malfoy unconscious in her husband's arms, noise broke out. Cameras started to flash. The smoke covered them that Draco could no longer see Pansy's reaction. He gripped Hermione's wrist harder.

"Let me pass, let me pass." It was Rochester and he was making his way toward Draco and Hermione. "Draco, what's going on?" he asked as soon as he recognized Draco's platinum blonde hair.

"Mr. Rochester?" said Draco, but his voice was drowned by the raucous reporters who started yelling at him and asking him a hundred questions at the same time. Draco let go of Hermione's wrist and draped an arm over her shoulders protectively. They could barely see amidst the purple smoke.

"Malfoy?" he heard Hermione say, slightly coughing.

"Just hold on to me, Granger," said Draco.

Rochester had finally been able to reach them. He steered the two away from the reporters and the crowd which almost squashed them.

"Mr. Malfoy! Are you getting married?" a reporter shouted over the din.

"Mr. Malfoy will answer no questions at the moment!" yelled Rochester. "I suggest you make way and let us pass!"

But the cameras and the voices could not be subdued. Draco was already finding it hard to breathe. Hermione clutched at his robes tightly and fought hard not to faint.

Draco knew his father was already insane with anger and even if he escaped at that moment, he couldn't escape from him forever. He had to deal with what he had done.

They continued walking towards the gates. Rochester's hand was on his back and was pushing him forward; with his other hand he pushed away anyone blocking their path.

It was a difficult ten minutes until they reached the golden gates. When they get past it, they could apparate from the Manor.

"We're almost there, Granger," Draco told Hermione, whose breath was coming in short gasps. He looked at Rochester and voiced out his worry.

"What about Father?"

"I'll take care of it. For now."

Rochester brought out his wand and swished it. The gates opened a little. Draco and Hermione had to make themselves fit the small opening. Draco went first then pulled Hermione away from the crowd. Rochester was left behind and with another flick of his wand, the gates closed.

"Go!" he shouted at them.

Draco didn't have to be told. He clutched Hermione's hand and with two soft pops, they vanished.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione's feet landed unsteadily on the backyard of her house, still holding Draco's hand. But the moment she was able to steady herself, she wrenched her hand from Draco's grip.

"Hey!" exclaimed Draco in surprise. He looked at Hermione but she didn't even glance at him and instead went straight inside the house, banging the door close behind her. Draco hesitantly followed suit. He tried to catch up with Hermione, who was going upstairs, but she was a bit too fast and he ended up having the door of Hermione's room slammed in front of his face.

Draco knocked at the door impatiently. "Granger! Granger, let's talk!"

There was no reply. Draco knocked again. "I said let's talk! Open this door, Granger!"

Draco kept on knocking but it was no use. He gave the door a violent kick. "Fine! Suit yourself!" He headed to his room and also slammed the door closed.

"Damn it," he muttered. He ran his hand through his head in frustration. He had no idea on what to do about what had happened. He knew he should apologize to Hermione, but since she was being her usual obstinate self, he couldn't. And there was still Pansy. And his parents. He paced around the room, trying to come up with something to smoothen things out. But his brain wasn't cooperating. Sighing, he decided to put it off for tomorrow, and got ready for bed. He was already pulling off his shirt when all of a sudden, the door opened and Hermione stormed in.

"What the hell!" Draco cried out, trying to put his shirt back on as quickly as he could.

Hermione gasped in surprise at the sight of Draco's bare chest. She closed her eyes and turned around. "Oh my God, I'm sorry," she said.

"What is your problem, Mudblood!" yelled Draco. It was a moment before he realized what he had said.

Hermione had faced him as she heard the insult. Her eyes were narrowed.

"I take it back. I'm not sorry," she snapped.

"Granger---"

"You think you could play with me, Malfoy? Are you really trying to ruin my life?"

Draco cautiously took a step closer to her. "Granger, let me explain---"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear the lame excuse you've come up with!" she interjected, "Who do you think you are, bossing me around and putting me down? And if that's not enough, you try and seduce me in front of everybody!"

"Granger, I didn't seduce you!"

"Oh yeah? So what exactly did you do? You know, your insults and name-calling I can take but taking advantage of me is something I wouldn't let you get away with!"

"Fine!" said Draco, raising his hands in surrender. "If you really don't want me to get away with it, you can do something,"

"And what is that?"

"Marry me." Draco said, looking Hermione in the eye.

For the second time that night, shock filled Hermione. She stared at Draco, flabbergasted. She had that peculiar feeling of not being able to breathe, not unlike what she had felt when all those reporters cornered them in the Manor. Her knees wobbled a bit.

"W-what did you say?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

Draco swallowed. "Marry me, Granger,"

Draco didn't actually plan on proposing to Hermione. In the ten years he had known her, he had never thought of asking her that question. He surprised even himself. Draco didn't exactly know where that idea came from. Probably it was from his exhaustion or from the lack of something to say. But now that he had said it, he actually thought it was a good idea. Hermione remained speechless, however, and stared at him as though he had sprouted feelers.

"It's not that I'm in love with you or something of the sort," explained Draco hurriedly, before Hermione got any ideas. "It's just that, well, everybody already expects it. You know, after what happened earlier." He cleared his throat to show his awkwardness.

"But that wasn't my fault," said Hermione, finally finding her voice again.

"Yes, but--"

Hermione halted him with a hand. "What you mean to say is that you didn't mean what you said earlier and you're asking me to marry you because you can't take it back?"

"Uh yeah."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "What do you think I am, stupid?"

Draco tried to be patient. "I hate to admit it, Granger, but I need your help--"

"In what? Making me miserable? Don't worry, I always am when I'm with you," interrupted Hermione scathingly.

"No, Granger. Just... try to listen to me first, okay?"

"Whatever."

Draco sighed heavily and then sat on his bed. "I really didn't know why I did it. I was just too..."

"Cowardly to tell Pansy you love her?" Hermione suggested. Draco glared at her. "Well, it's true!"

"Anyway, even if I actually did tell her that I... you know, I don't think I'm ready for it."

"You're not ready to marry Pansy but you're ready to marry me?"

"Like I said, I'm not in love with you," snapped Draco. "So it's a different situation,"

"Yeah sure."

Draco ignored Hermione's sarcastic remark. "I figured that since Father is always nagging me to settle down and stuff, then I will, but not exactly the way he wanted me to do it."

"I get it," said Hermione. "You want to get Lucius insanely angry and you're using me to do it?"

"If you want to put it that way---"

"Boy, Draco, you sure know how to get to a woman's heart," replied Hermione derisively, "I can imagine why Pansy wants to marry you,"

"Ha ha." said Draco. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Hermione grinned evilly. "What's in it for me?"

Draco shrugged. "Okay, fair enough. How about... this house," Hermione's eyes widened. "Yeah, you heard me. After we get divorced, you will get this house and I promise you I'll never bother you again,"

Hermione smiled but then began to be suspicious. "How sure am I that you're going to keep your word?"

"Easy. We'll make a contract."

"A contract?"

Draco nodded. "Sort of like a pre-nup. You give your terms, I give mine. If one of us breaks it, the marriage is off."

"What will happen to me when the marriage is over?"

"You really don't trust me do you?"

"Uh yeah."

Draco shrugged. "If you agree to marry me, you'll be set for life. In case we don't stay married for the period stated in the contract-- which is highly possible-- you'll still get the house and a monthly stipend. How's that?"

"I admit, that sounds good," said Hermione, "but for some reason, I'm not comfortable with this,"

"Granger, all you have to do is say yes."

"What if I don't?"

"I'll kick you out of the house," Draco stated simply.

"Gee, thanks for giving me an option," remarked Hermione sardonically.

"Welcome," Draco smiled.

Hermione stood there, looking at Draco with a calculating gaze, and then walked out of the room.

Draco stood up. "Hey! Where are you going?"

Hermione's head peeked in. "I'm going to type my demands, just so I won't forget anything." She smiled widely at Draco and closed the door.

Draco could only grin.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The next morning, the two were up early to arrange the contract. They sat at the dining table, facing each other, with a pile of documents type-written by Hermione in front of them. Draco was already in a business suit because he was going to office later that morning. Looking at him made Hermione feel like she was selling her soul to the Devil in an Armani coat.

"This is an absolutely stupid one, Granger," commented Draco, as he went over a page. "Term number one: We shouldn't fall in love with each other," he read, laughing. "Like _that_ would happen."

Hermione tried hard not to blush. "It's just a precautionary measure, Malfoy. Just so we're clear, I'm never going to fall in love with you,"

"Ditto! So why do we need this one? Maybe you should change it to 'We shouldn't kill each other'; that would've been more likely,"

"If you're finished mocking my terms, could you sign it already?" said Hermione acidly.

"All right, all right," replied Draco, scribbling his signature on the paper and turning to another page. "Wow, you really want to make life easier for you, don't you?"

"Well I'm making your life easier for you, so it's only fair," answered Hermione, also scribbling her signature on Draco's terms, trying to memorize as much of them as she could, so he wouldn't have the chance to twist them if ever the situation arose.

"Done?" Hermione asked, looking over at the papers Draco were signing. Draco finished with a flourish and made a thumbs-up sign at Hermione.

"Done!"

"Good." Hermione offered her hand and Draco shook it to seal the deal. Then he stood up and picked up his briefcase from the floor.

"I'm going now,"

"Okay." Hermione smiled at him.

"Clean the house," commanded Draco.

"Yes,"

"Scrub the bathroom tiles,"

"Uh huh,"

"And try not to break anything while you're at it,"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Just go. Please."

Draco turned his back on Hermione, walked away and was just about to exit the kitchen when he looked back again and raising a finger said,

"And don't forget, no magic."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "But the contract says I can already use magic!"

"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but we're still not married." Draco smirked. "Have a great day!"

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I'm going to be married to him for six months," she muttered. "I'll probably be dead by the second week."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco rode the elevator to the top floor of the main building, where his office was located. He had to admit, even though he was used to tall imposing buildings with polished oak furniture, nothing could have prepared him for the Muggle version of it. For the first time in his life, he was alone in the elevator, without twenty flying paper memos noisily flapping around him.

Outside the elevator, everything was weirder. Draco did not see numerous wizards popping in and out of the place and no inanimate object was moving by itself. The floor wasn't littered by owl droppings and most importantly, the people were not wearing wizard robes and pointed hats. They even seemed nicer there. They politely nodded and smiled at Draco, though it was apparent that they didn't exactly know who he was but were just assuming that he was related to another platinum blonde-haired man who was often seen talking with Edilbert Maverick, the big boss.

Draco did his best to seem sociable, or at least sociable enough to not be given looks of pure loathing, the ones they gave him back at the Wizarding Office. He walked the long halls lined with oak cubicles, occupied by seemingly diligent employees, typing noisily on their computers. He also passed different portraits made by famous Muggle painters. At the end of one, there were huge double doors, which, as soon as Draco was close enough, automatically opened, revealing a room with nothing but a huge desk and another door.

Behind the desk was a red-haired young woman who was currently filing her nails. The sight of Draco surprised her and her jaw dropped; so did the nail file. Draco grinned. He knew he had a strong effect on women.

"Good morning," he greeted, trying his best to look extraordinarily charming.

The young woman blushed before giving her a timid smile. "Good morning, sir,"

"I'm Draco Malfoy, and I assume that you know why I'm here,"

The woman hurriedly stood up. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy, sir. Welcome to your office,"

Draco nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. And may I know the name of the gorgeous woman that I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

She giggled at the compliment, but held her hand out. "I'm Stacy Milton, sir. Your secretary,"

Draco held her hand but instead of shaking it, he gripped it tighter. "Looks like I got pretty lucky." He grinned suggestively. Stacy replied with another flirty giggle.

Draco was just about to ask more about his attractive secretary when the door of his office opened and his father emerged, the graveness in his eyes betraying his calm face. Stacy quickly let go of Draco's hand.

"Your father is here to see you, sir," she said quietly.

"Yes, I was expecting him," answered Draco, keeping eye contact with Lucius. "I'll be going in now, Stacy,"

"Yes sir."

Lucius held the door open for Draco and he went in, trying to hide the fear he had felt at seeing his father's face. Lucius calmly sat on the big armchair behind the imposing office table and then motioned for his son to sit at the smaller swivel chair opposite him. Draco grimaced but conceded.

"So, Draco," began Lucius, in a cool voice, resting his elbows on the arm rest and slightly interlacing his fingers in front of him. He fixed Draco with a stare that clearly demanded his son's attention. Draco nodded to show that he was listening.

"What in Merlin's name did you do last night?"

Draco did not dare break eye contact with his father. He swallowed and answered in a way that he hoped seemed convincing.

"I did what I should have, Father,"

"Really? You think so?"

"Yes, Father,"

Lucius' lips curled into a small smirk. "Boy, I thought I asked you to propose to Pansy Parkinson. But you proposed to that filthy--- muggleborn." The contempt he felt towards the kind showed in the steely glint in his eye. "I didn't tell you to do that."

Draco licked his dry lips. "Father, you told me to get married, did you not?"

"Yes---"

"Then I suppose that I have the right to choose who I'm going to marry,"

Lucius was surprised at his son's daring. "You suppose wrong, boy. Do you know what embarrassment you have brought our family? How stupid you are!" he spat.

"It doesn't matter who I wed, Father. The children would still be Malfoys---"

Lucius banged a hand on the table. Draco cringed slightly. "Malfoys are pure-blooded!" he said, his anger now beginning to be more evident. "I will not let Malfoy blood be tainted with dirty Muggle blood!"

"Father--"

"This will not do, Draco! There will be no excuses, boy! You will break off whatever you have with this--this _Mudblood_ and you will propose to Pansy Parkinson!"

Lucius breathed heavily. Draco merely watched him with a rebellious gaze.

He let his father calm down a bit before speaking.

"I will not, Father." he said with a tone of finality. Lucius' eyes widened at this, and in a moment, he was up on his feet.

"What did you say, boy?" he asked, almost whispering.

"I said I will not break anything off with Hermione." He said her name in such a way that it made Lucius even more furious. His father's lip curled and slowly, he reached for his cane on the side of the table. Draco darted a look at it and swallowed. He knew what was going to come next.

"Do you dare disobey me, Draco? Do you not know who I am?" spoke Lucius, his voice dripping with venom.

Draco stood up, too. He was not going to take everything sitting down.

"I know who you are. That's why I'm doing this."

"_What_?"

"I will live my own life from now on, Father. I'm not going to let you live it for me. And I will do what I wish."

To Draco's astonishment, Lucius began to laugh. A low rumbling laugh which escalated to a maniacal one. Draco stood there, his father's mocking laughter echoing in his ears. After some moments, Lucius stopped.

Brushing strands of blonde hair so like Draco's own from his face, he fixed his son another glare.

"Draco, Draco. Now I know why you did such a ridiculous thing. You want to spite me, is that it? You want to rebel against me, don't you? You want to anger your dear old father..." Lucius held a hand to his chest and grinned. "You hurt me," he said sarcastically. "You're destroying your whole future, the future of the Malfoy clan because you want to get to me. Pathetic. And here I was thinking I raised you right."

Draco gritted his teeth. He actually expected this to happen, for his father to figure out what he was doing; he didn't become one of Voldemort's most trusted servants for nothing.

"Come now, Draco," continued Lucius, approaching his son, a hand outstretched. "Don't be such a fool. Stop all this child's play right now. Do what I want you to do and everything will be all right--"

"No. I've had enough of you're manipulating, Father." Draco replied, summoning all his courage. "There would still be a marriage, as I have promised you. But Hermione Granger will be my bride."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione was sitting in front of her computer that afternoon, trying to squeeze her brain for ideas. She had been slumped there for about an hour but she hasn't even filled a page yet. She picked up the glass of water beside the keyboard and took a swig. Her computer table was already littered with potato chip wrappers, half-eaten chocolate bars, a bowl of peanuts and a pitcher of cold water which was little by little warming up, it's moisture, dripping onto the wooden surface, but Hermione barely noticed.

"How am I going to make him come back?" she said, talking to herself. "Perhaps, I could make the girl fall in love with another guy and then he comes back and finds out and then-- then what?"

She sighed heavily as her train of thought once again vanished. Hermione absentmindedly scratched her head with the pencil she was holding. She scrunched up her face in thought but nothing came out.

Then, the doorbell rang. Hermione was startled and almost fell off the chair. The doorbell rang again. She quickly stood up and dusted the crumbs off the front of her shirt.

"Wait a minute! I'm coming!"

She ran the length of the living room, opened the sliding doors into the foyer and pulled the door open.

"Yes, Good--"

But Hermione wasn't able to finish her sentence because the sight in front of her stunned her. It was Ned and Sheila, holding a bouquet of flowers and beaming at her as though they just didn't make her life a living hell.

"Congratulations!" They shouted in unison, positively giddy with happiness.

Hermione could only stare. Her friends didn't seem to notice that she was in a state of shock, however, and forced themselves inside the house before Hermione could react.

"We've missed you sooooo much!" said Sheila as she stood in the foyer, an arm linked around her husband's. "How was the workshop? Did you learn loads? Who did you meet?"

Ned looked on eagerly for Hermione's reply. But she didn't even make a sound and just kept staring at them. So Ned took the initiative and shoved the bouquet of flowers into Hermione's arms.

"For you! They're lilies, your favorite!" he announced, as though Hermione was blind and couldn't see what kind of flowers they were.

Finally, Hermione blinked. Apparently, she was hoping that what she was seeing was merely an apparition of her friends and was actually not real and was just due to being in front of the computer for so long. But as the scent of the lilies wafted to her nose, her senses were awakened and they finally confirmed that she was not just having a nightmare.

"Ned? Sheila?" she mumbled softly.

Sheila laughed. "Who did you think we were, silly!"

The couple, without a sign of awkwardness, continued their way to the living room. The sight of all the expensive furniture astonished them.

"What do you have here, Hermione?" said Ned, money signs practically dancing over his eyes.

"Wow!" exclaimed Sheila, touching the nearest porcelain vase. "I've seen one of these at our house! My mother never allowed me to touch it because she said it was so expensive!"

"Hey look at this!" said Ned, approaching a golden Egyptian statue of the god Anubis. "Is this pure gold?"

The two continued on prying and poking everything they laid their eyes on, paying Hermione the least bit of attention. They sat and bounced on the soft couch, played with the TV remote, turned on the stereo and even eating the left-overs of Hermione's chocolate bars, while Hermione just stood there and watched them unbelievingly.

"Where did all of this come from? I thought we had all of Hermione's money?" Sheila wondered loudly. What she said snapped Hermione out of her stupor; and faster than Ned and Sheila knew what was going on, Hermione was already on them, whacking them both with the bouquet of flowers they had given her.

"How dare you! How dare you!" yelled Hermione, while hitting Ned's back, petals flying over the place.

Sheila tried to stop Hermione at the same time trying to protect herself. "Hermione, stop! Stop!" she shouted, covering her face with an arm. Her husband remained helplessly bent, afraid that if he exposed even an inch of his face, she was going to rip it off.

"How dare you barge in here and act as if you haven't ruined my life! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

Nothing remained of the bouquet when Hermione finished, only limp stems and crumpled plastic. Sheila had finally been able to push Hermione away from her husband and was now tending Ned, careful to keep a considerable distance between them and the bushy-haired woman.

Although she had stopped whacking, Hermione kept on yelling.

"And I thought we were friends! But noooooo! You took everything away from me and now look at what's happened to me! My cat is hungry, I'm poor and I'm living with the most arrogant human being on earth! And it's all because of you! I hate you! I will never forgive you!"

Ned, still wincing, tried to calm his friend down. "Hermione, please, we're sorry! That's why we're here, we wanted to apologize!"

"Bullshit! I don't need your apology! I need my money back!"

"Like we told you, we still have to get jobs--" said Sheila, pleading.

Hermione turned a deaf ear to her. "You should pay for this! I will sue you! I will make sure you both go to prison!"

Both Ned and Sheila cringed at the mention of prison.

Ned tried again. "Please, Hermione, don't be angry anymore. I mean, look what you have now? You're richer than you were before! And you'll be richer, now that you're getting married and you don't need us to pay you back--"

Hermione held up a hand to stop Ned. "What did you just say?"

Ned blinked. "Erm, I said, you're going to be richer--"

"No, before that,"

"Uh, that you shouldn't be angry anymore?"

"No! After that!"

Ned looked lost. He glanced at Sheila and she hesitantly spoke, "That you're getting married?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. She felt like her knees were going to give way. She unceremoniously flopped down on the closest chair.

_This could not be happening,_ she thought, astounded.

She looked at Ned and Sheila, waiting for an answer. But they were mirroring the questioning gaze she held. She desperately wanted to know how on earth they knew about that. She had to open and close her mouth several times before her voice came out.

"How-- how did you find out?" she asked weakly.

Ned shrugged. "In the newspaper,"

Hermione felt faint. "N-newspaper? I-- I don't-- do you have a copy of it?"

"Oh yeah! I have it here!" said Sheila, rummaging inside her bag. "Got it!" She cautiously approached Hermione, half-expecting her to bite her arm off, but Hermione just grabbed the newspaper and took a look.

She didn't even have to scan it. The news of her marriage to Draco was on the front page.

"How could this happen?" she asked more to herself than to her friends. The headline said "Son of Top Business Mogul To Be Wed". Then there was a picture of Draco, incredibly handsome in a business suit and, much to her surprise, there was even one of her. She was wearing the periwinkle robes she had worn to the banquet. Hermione realized that it had been taken _during_ the banquet, which puzzled her even more. She knew that it was a wizarding event. So how could Muggle newspapers get hold of the picture? And the biggest question was, how did they find out about their (Draco and hers) decision to get married? The multitude of questions and consequences piled into her brain that she felt nauseated.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Sheila inquired, taking a tentative step toward her friend, Ned at her heels. "You looked more shocked than any of us were,"

Hermione gave a feeble laugh. "You have no idea,"

"What do you mean? Isn't it true?" Ned asked.

Hermione sighed. "It is," she admitted, finding no reason to lie about it, since it was already on the papers. "I just-- we wished to keep it secret. At least for some time." She looked her friends in the eye, to see if they believed her excuse. To her relief, Sheila burst into giggles.

"Oh! You two are so cute! A match made in heaven!" she remarked.

Hermione snorted.

"So where did you meet him?" asked Ned, taking a seat on the couch, eager for a story.

"I, uh, we, uh, we... met in school," she stammered, nervously fidgeting with some strands of her hair. She gave them a small smile.

"School? You mean, in Russia?"

Hermione blinked. "Huh?"

Sheila sighed. "You told us you went to school in Russia, remember?"

Hermione remembered her fabricated story and nodded quickly in agreement. "Oh yeah. Yes, that's it. In Russia." She made a mental note to tell Draco about their "meeting in Russia"; just in case he met Sheila and Ned and things get complicated.

"And?"

"And what?"

"How was he? Did he like you first or was it the other way around? He looks really handsome in the picture; I bet you were the one pining for him. You're really not that beautiful to look at, you know. You probably looked geekier during high school--" Hermione shot Sheila a death glare and she retracted her statement. "I mean, of course, he saw how pretty you were and how smart you were. God, he's one lucky man!" Sheila laughed nervously. Ned joined in.

"Ha ha." said Hermione sarcastically. "You think I've forgotten everything, don't you? Out!" She stood up and pointed the two to the door. "We're not going to be friends again, that easily,"

Ned and Sheila also got up and began to protest.

"Come on, Hermione! We're best friends! Please, forgive us already!"

"Nope. You're not going to get away with it, this time, Ned. Out!"

Hermione walked towards them and they walked backwards.

"But you're going to invite us to the wedding, right?"

"Oh yeah, sure, if you could come up with the money by that time, I'd love to invite you!" replied Hermione sardonically.

"Hermione--"

"Out!"

"Hermione!"

"Uh uh. Out!"

Ned and Sheila had reached the front door by then. Hermione continued to advance towards them.

"Don't do this, Hermione. You're going to need us, I assure you," said Ned.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Whatever."

With one long stride, she reached the couple, turned them around, opened the door and pushed them out roughly.

"I don't need to remind you that you deserve this, don't I?"

Sheila scowled. "We'll be back, Hermione. You can't live without us!"

Hermione didn't even reply and merely shut the door on their faces. Then, satisfied though still bothered, she went back to her computer, the newspaper article still in one hand. As she sat on swivel chair, she browsed through the article again. She seriously considered giving Draco a call, just to let him know that trouble was brewing but she hesitated; he was probably in a business meeting and if she disturbed him, he'd probably make her clean the toilet bowl again. She sighed. This was not good.

When she was about to continue her work, the door bell rang again.

"What the--"

It seemed that Ned and Sheila weren't giving up that easily, too.

With a scream of frustration, she ran to the door, determined to frighten the two away as fast as possible. But when the door opened, Ned and Sheila weren't the ones standing in the doorway. It was a man, wearing what seemed like a bellboy uniform, and was currently smiling at her pleasantly.

"Good day, Miss Granger,"

Hermione nervously shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Er--"

But the bellboy didn't let her finish and continued talking. "I am here to escort you to the Malfoy Manor. Mistress Narcissa Malfoy and Madame Maud Malfoy are requesting your presence," he said rapidly.

"Narcissa? Narcissa wants to see me?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"Yes, Miss Granger. And I am to take you to the Manor, right away."

Hermione instinctively touched her hair, suddenly conscious of her appearance. Nervousness began to take over. "B-but I don't think I'm ready,"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean-- I still have to change clothes and er, fix my hair," she explained weakly.

"I do not think there will be time for that, Miss Granger. I ask you to kindly follow me." He stepped sideways and made room for Hermione, but she was still in shock.

"You mean now? As in _this_ minute?"

"Yes."

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed, panicking. "I can't go there looking like this!"

The bellboy seemed impatient. "I am afraid your appearance will have to do. Please, follow me,"

Hermione continued to protest, but the bellboy had already gotten hold of her arm and was forcing her out of the house. "No wait!"

Just outside the white fence, a shiny black limousine was parked, apparently waiting for her. Hermione's eyes widened.

"I'm going to ride a limousine to the Manor?"

"Not exactly," the bellboy replied.

As they reached the vehicle, he opened the door for her and pushed her in rather forcefully.

"In you go!"

"Wait!" called Hermione, holding the car door open. "You can't do this!"

"I am sorry, Miss Granger, but if the Mistress requests your presence, then she will get it."

The bellboy gave her one last smile and pushed the door close with all his might. Hermione was determined to get out of the vehicle. But before she could do anything, her surroundings began to swirl in front of her eyes.

"What's going on?"

It only took a few seconds. It was too late to get out because then she realized she was no longer inside the limousine. She had fallen painfully on her butt on a carpet, at the center of a huge hall, with walls lined up with paintings; moving paintings which watched her with calculating eyes. Tall candleholders were scattered all over the place, each taper emitting bright red fire. She looked up at the high ceiling painted with a fresco of angels with somber faces, gliding amidst pastel blue clouds. The entire place looked like a cross between a cathedral and a gothic funeral home. She shivered slightly noticing the cold draft sweeping the place.

Slowly, she picked herself up from the floor and tried to straighten her clothes. Everything was quiet until a voice broke the silence.

"So, you are Hermione Granger,"

Hermione spun around and saw two women. One was Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, dressed in elegant midnight blue robes, rich blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. At first, Hermione had to squint to make sure it was her, for the haughty look that usually occupied her face was gone and was replaced by a look of apprehension.

Hermione's gaze transferred to the other lady. She had never seen her before, but she was pretty sure she was also a Malfoy. The woman was old, but she had prominent Malfoy features: regal bearing, steely silver eyes and blonde hair, which had gone whiter through the years, changing the color from platinum blonde to light lemon yellow, tied up in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing gray robes which matched her eyes perfectly; those eyes which looked at Hermione with clear dislike.

"So, you are Hermione Granger," she repeated. "I am Madame Maud Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's grandmother. And to be honest with you, Miss Granger, I don't like you at all."

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Next Chapter: Hermione meets the family and the wedding of the century takes place. Or not.

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A/N: How'd you like it? 22 pages of sweat and toil, people. You know, I found out that people actually have alerts on this story; it makes me wonder why I don't get many reviews… to all the guys who read this story, please try and review. I'd really appreciate it. Flames are welcome, as long as they're _connected_ to the story; because I encountered one not criticizing the story but Asians in general! Imagine that! He/She/It pissed me right off. I think the review doesn't show on the review page, but if it does on yours, well then at least you know what I'm talking about. To that flamer/racist: get a life. But to the others, much love! Till next time!


	6. Changing Minds

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to xxicedfirexx. Thanks for everything. Hugs and kisses to you!

Go on, read it now!

Chapter 6: Changing Minds

Narcissa and Maud led her to another room, half the size of the huge hall they had just left. The first thing that Hermione noticed about the room was its color: hideous green. The lush carpeting looked like grass indoors. The walls, also covered with paintings, were of the same color. But this time, there were also a number of small cabinets lined up, each containing delicate, multi-colored tea sets. At the far side of the room was a big red brick fireplace, with the huge portrait of another snobbish-looking Malfoy on top.

Hermione tried not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. For rich people, the Malfoys had a weird sense of style. She thanked Draco for not inheriting it, however, and their house seemed loads more color-coordinated than the room she was in.

Narcissa motioned for her to come to the round table at the center of the room. It had four armchairs with round seating and headrests. The table itself was covered with green silk with a silver runner draped across it. A singe porcelain vase with one black rose was the only thing on top of it at the time. Hermione approached them slowly, keeping a shy smile on her lips.

She had already taken her seat before she noticed that the two older women were still standing before her. Maud looked more displeased at her, the corner of her lip was curled in annoyance. Hermione actually didn't understand what she did wrong until three servants entered the room. The first servant pulled out a chair for Maud, the other for Narcissa. The third one pushed in a huge tray containing tea, crumpets and other assortments of pastries. Even when she was seated, Maud was still giving her an irritated look. Hermione still did not understand.

"Courtesy, Miss Granger," Maud told Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "If I am not yet seated, no one will be."

Hermione fought hard not to snort. It was apparent that arrogance ran in the family.

"I'm sorry," apologized Hermione, though she really did not mean it.

"Madame," said Maud. "I am sorry, Madame. Courtesy, Miss Granger," she corrected.

"Oh yes. I'm sorry. Madame," answered Hermione, emphasizing the last word.

Narcissa was quiet during the whole time and only now cleared her throat to speak.

"Mother, would you like a buttered crumpet?" she asked Maud, as the servant laid out the food on the table.

"Yes, please, Narcissa."

"Would you like milk for your tea?"

"No milk, just sugar."

"Would you like wine for later, or should I order a bottle of champagne for you?"

"Wine would be fine for later. Red. Twelve percent alcohol."

"As you wish, Mother,"

Hermione watched the exchange with wide eyes. Narcissa had focused all her attention to Maud, asking her everything she wanted, as if her pleasure meant the world to Narcissa. Maud acted like it was normal, the proper thing to do. Hermione shuddered. Does it mean that when she and Draco get married, she would have to treat Maud the same way? As her servant?

"Do you feel cold, Miss Granger?" Narcissa asked Hermione, her voice losing some of its docility.

Hermione smiled at her. "No, no. I'm quite fine, Mrs. Malfoy."

"_Mistress_ Malfoy," interjected Maud. "Courtesy, Miss Granger,"

"Right. Madame."

They commenced their tea, Hermione trying hard not to grab everything in front of her. She chewed as slowly as she could, keeping an eye on Maud, just in case she did something wrong again and she hadn't realized it yet.

She watched as Narcissa carefully buttered a crumpet, using the bread knife as gracefully as she would a paintbrush. Then with a slight inclination of the head, handed it to Maud who took it, bit half of the pastry and chewed with her mouth pursed. Hermione suddenly became aware that she was chomping on a chocolate fudge cupcake like a monkey. She swallowed, humiliated, and took a sip of tea instead.

Maud dabbed the sides of her mouth with a table napkin and once again fixed a look on Hermione.

"So, Miss Granger, how long have you known my grandson?"

Hermione nearly choked on her tea. She also wiped her mouth, rather nervously, before answering.

"Ermm, we were in the same year at Hogwarts, Madame."

"I see. And you are from Slytherin, I suppose?"

Hermione tried to avoid eye contact. "No, Madame. I'm from Gryffindor,"

As expected, Maud gave a 'hmph' at this. She looked at Narcissa.

"Did you know that this girl was in Gryffindor, Narcissa?"

"Yes, Mother," replied Narcissa, casting Hermione a wary look. "Draco has told us all about her,"

Hermione could just imagine what stories Draco had cooked up.

"Gryffindor!" said Maud in a voice that clearly expressed her indignation. "Such an awful house! Proud of nothing but foolish heroics! _I_ would rather have chosen Hufflepuff!" She sighed, as though resigned to the fact that she had a newt for a granddaughter-in-law. "I do hope the children will still end up in Slytherin,"

Hermione, at this remark, did not only choke on her crumpet but also spilled her tea in the process, as she reached for it. Narcissa and Maud were rather taken aback. Hermione had begun to cough violently. The tea had by then stained Hermione's part of the table and was already dripping on the ugly green carpet. Narcissa, to everyone's surprise, stood up and patted Hermione's back.

"There now, there now," she said consolingly, as she obviously did not know how to help a girl who was choking to death.

Maud called for the servants, and they came as fast as their legs could carry them. With a quick wave of their wands, everything was put back into place. Hermione's teacup was full again and the table cloth as clean as before. One of the servants approached Hermione, pointed his wand at her, muttered something and just like that, Hermione was able to breathe normally again. Hermione thanked him, gasping and clasping her chest; Narcissa's hand remained on her back. Then the servants bowed out as fast as they came.

"Careless girl," Maud muttered, loudly enough for Hermione to hear.

"I'm sorry, Madame," Hermione said, as Narcissa took her seat, still keeping an eye on her.

Maud sighed heavily again. "What has gotten into Draco's mind? A decision of marriage as quick as this is obviously a mistake!"

Hermione felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. Who was Maud to judge their decision? She longed to shout out that it was just an arranged marriage and they could quit insulting her because she was going to divorce Draco in six months, anyway. But the look on Draco's face if he found out what she did stopped her.

Maud continued to point out Hermione's flaws.

"Look at her! Dressed like a beggar! In Muggle clothes, no less! And her hair! Merlin, it looks like it would catch fire anytime! This is ridiculous! Simply preposterous!" She took a sip of her tea. "I must talk to Draco, Narcissa. I would like to know what has gotten into that boy's mind!"

For that entire time, Hermione continued to get redder and redder. Narcissa shifted her gaze from Hermione to Maud, looking as though she was also embarrassed but was too afraid of Maud to show it.

For a few minutes, all was quiet as Maud's temper simmered down. They pretended that they were having a beautiful time having tea. Peacefully. Of course, Maud couldn't help herself from destroying that fleeting moment.

"What do you do for a living, Miss Granger?"

Though Hermione thoroughly wanted to strangle Maud, she was glad that the topic of the conversation had shifted and the state of her hair was no longer the center of it.

"I am a writer, Madame." she replied, a hint of pride escaping.

"A writer, you say? And what do you write?"

"Fiction. Novels and short stories."

"Have you won awards?"

"Ermm, no."

"Contests?"

"No---"

"Has your name been mentioned in any of the magazines?"

"No, Madame---"

"Have your works even been published?"

Hermione certainly didn't like where the conversation was going. "Unfortunately not, Madame,"

Maud shook her head in disappointment. "Unfortunately. Tell me, Miss Granger, has there been anyone who has read your works aside from yourself?"

Hermione blushed furiously at this. "Of course, Madame! My friends always---"

"Friends? Pfft." interjected Maud, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "I doubt that your friends are literate, much more literary critics. Friends simply do not count, Miss Granger,"

"Well, Draco has read them and he told me that they were wonderful!" answered Hermione bravely. Narcissa and Maud looked surprised. Their gazes suddenly made Hermione regret the lie.

"Very well. I would like to think Draco to be far more intellectually superior than your Muggle friends," said Maud, sipping her tea. Technically, it was true, but Hermione still felt angry at Maud for insulting her friends, but dared not speak.

"And how about your parents, Miss Granger, what do they do for a living?" Both Maud and Narcissa looked at her expectantly at this. Hermione felt her stomach churn. Her parents didn't do anything for a living simply because they were, in fact, not alive. She sighed.

"They don't--- I mean, they're... unemployed," stuttered Hermione.

_Well, that certainly didn't come out well,_ she thought.

Maud's eyebrows rose so high up at her answer that Hermione thought they were going to vanish into her hairline.

"Unemployed? _Unemployed? _How irresponsible!"

Hermione didn't let Maud get away with that remark. "My parents do not work for perfectly valid reasons!" she snapped. Maud looked outraged.

"Courtesy, Miss Granger! And, if I may know, what valid reasons are these that allow able-bodied adults to not work?"

"They're dead." Hermione simply stated. She felt that familiar sting she feels whenever she remembers that her parents are gone.

She waited for Maud to apologize or to say something to show that she had been surprised or even sorry that Hermione was already orphaned. But instead, she gave another haughty 'hmph'.

"Well, that explains your manners."

Hermione felt like she was going to burst with fury. "Excuse me?"

"If you had parents, Miss Granger, your manners wouldn't have been this horrible,"

Hermione prepared to argue but Narcissa spoke first.

"Mother, please, I think this is too much---"

Both Hermione and Maud turned to look at her in astonishment.

"Narcissa! I am disappointed in you," said Maud. "Your son is going to be married to this--- this _Muggle_ and you sit there as if it is of no matter!"

"Mother, we can't do anything about it," explained Narcissa with an apologetic voice. "I do not want to interfere with my son's decisions. Please, try not to be too harsh on the girl."

Maud looked like she had been slapped. "Me? Harsh?" She picked up her tea cup, only to find out that it was already empty. "Narcissa, I think I'd have some wine now," she continued curtly. Narcissa took the cue and bowed to Maud before standing up and getting out of the room. Hermione watched her go, feeling as though she had lost the only person in the room that remotely cared about what she felt.

As she turned to look at Maud again, she saw that she was more hostile than before.

"Miss Granger, do you know what you're getting into?" she asked.

Hermione instinctively wanted to answer 'No' but stopped herself. "Yes," she answered with all the confidence she could muster.

"Do you know that after this marriage, you will become part of one of the last pureblooded families of Wizarding kind?"

"Yes,"

"Then you know the responsibilities this entails?"

"Yes,"

"And you also know that from now on, you _will _have to get along with me?"

Hermione tried hard not to look away. "Yes."

"Madame," corrected Maud, finally not able to take Hermione's disrespect of her.

"Yes, Madame."

Maud's eyebrows were once again raised. "Let this be clear, Miss Granger, I am a force to reckon with. I do hope you do not displease me."

Hermione stared back at her. "I will try not to, Madame."

Maud didn't seem convinced but went on. "Do not embarrass the family; most of all, do not taint the family name. Understand?"

"Yes, Madame."

"I will not ask you if you love Draco, for love does not matter to me." Hermione tried not to look too relieved at this. "But loyalty is of the utmost importance. Do you get my point, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Madame."

"And do not think that my age makes me any weaker. You will have to face me _if_ you do anything that you are not supposed to. I am Maud Malfoy. Nobody is above me."

Hermione wanted to laugh at this. She vaguely reminded Hermione of Darth Vader.

"Do you understand, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was just about to reply when they heard a scuffle from outside the room. Muffled voices came from just outside the door; it seemed as though they were arguing. The voices became louder.

"No, Mother. Let me in,"

_Draco?_

The next moment, the door burst open and a very annoyed Draco walked in, hair slightly disheveled and tie loose. Narcissa was at his heels, evidently preventing him from entering but failed.

Maud quickly stood up. "My dear boy!" she exclaimed lovingly. Hermione was astonished at her change of voice. Even her face held the first smile Hermione had seen on it. Draco did not return it, however, and looked grim.

"Grandmother, what is this about?" Draco asked harshly.

Maud tried to look innocent. "We were just having tea, darling." She motioned to the tea table and the seated Hermione, who was at the time too surprised to react the way Maud would have wanted her to. All she managed was a feeble wave at Draco.

"Hermione? Why are you here?"

"Ermm..." She looked nervously at the threatening face of Maud and nervous Narcissa, before focusing on Draco. "We were having tea..." The statement sounded more like a question.

Draco didn't waste any more time and grabbed Hermione's arm, forcing her to stand. "We're going," he said simply and began walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Maud called out. Narcissa blocked their path accordingly.

"Darling Draco, come have a seat with Grandma," coaxed Maud with honeyed voice. Draco looked very irritated.

"Grandmother, I want you to promise me not to do this again,"

"Do what?"

"This! Hermione and I are going to get married and that's it!"

Hermione blushed. Hearing that coming from Draco made her very uncomfortable. She was still not used to him calling her by her first name.

Narcissa tried to mediate. "Draco, do not speak like that to your grandmother."

Draco let go of Hermione and rubbed his eyes. "Mother, please."

"Draco, your grandmother only wanted to meet your bride before you get married, since it seemed like you did not have the slightest inclination to introduce her to us,"

Draco did not look guilty. "Of course not. I just don't like you to kidnap her!"

"Kidnap? Draco that sounds a bit too harsh," Maud said, looking sad. "Now you're accusing your grandmother?"

"No, Grandma. It just freaked me out to go home and find the house empty. I was... worried," explained Draco.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You were?" she asked, not being able to stop herself.

Draco looked her in the eye. "Of course I was,"

But Maud seemed more surprised at something else. "You live in the same house?" she gasped.

At this, Draco gave a sheepish laugh. "Didn't you know that already?"

From the looks of it, Narcissa and Maud didn't. Hermione sensed that there was going to be trouble.

"Draco, you know that is unacceptable!" exclaimed Narcissa, shocked.

"Mother, it doesn't matter now. We're getting married!"

Maud was scandalized. "But Draco...what if... she's pregnant already?"

All heads turned to Hermione, who was red as a radish.

Even Draco turned a bright pink. "Grandma we don't... I mean we just..." He looked at Hermione for help.

"We have separate rooms," completed Hermione. "And we..."

"Respect each other," supplemented Draco. "I mean, you did raise me to become the perfect gentleman, right Grandma?"

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Narcissa looked relieved. Maud still eyed Hermione suspiciously.

"I trust you, Draco, but this girl..."

Draco put his arms around Hermione and pulled her closer to him. "Hermione's perfect, Grandma." Just when Hermione thought that it was impossible for her to get any redder.

"Very well," sighed Maud. "Are you really going to leave now? Come, have some tea,"

"No, Grandma, I'm tired. Hermione's tired. We have to go,"

Draco released Hermione and grabbed her hand again. Narcissa gave way.

"We'll see you in the wedding, then," he said, "Say goodbye, 'Mione," he smiled at Hermione.

Hermione wanted to gag but managed a grin. "Thank you very much, Madame, Mistress Narcissa, it was a pleasure."

Narcissa was the only one who responded. "Take care, both of you. Good night,"

Maud simply nodded. Draco then pulled Hermione, like a rag doll, outside the room and into the huge hall. Draco was walking at a fast pace, as though he was afraid Maud was going to come after them.

Hermione wasn't fast enough and was finding it hard to keep in pace with Draco.

"Malfoy, wait up!" she said. "What's the rush?"

Draco didn't even look at her and continued walking. Hermione was forced to follow, though she wanted some more time to take in the sights of the Manor. They passed a long dark hallway, with heavy red curtains draped over the windows. Candles lined up on the wall lighted up the entire space. And as usual, there were numerous paintings of Draco's ancestors, the familiar Malfoy scowl etched on their faces. They passed more dark hallways, huge wooden double doors, and spacious halls after this, until they reached the gigantic entrance door. This entire time, Draco never bothered looking at Hermione, not even taking notice of her labored breathing. He was quiet and kept up the rapid pace. Hermione's arm began to feel sore.

Two wizards who were standing at either side of the door snapped up from their slouched positions and quickly unlocked the door to let Draco and Hermione out, mumbling a quick 'Good night' at Draco.

The harsh winds bit fiercely at Hermione's skin as soon as she was out of the Manor. The hairs on her arm stood up at the bitter weather and she shivered.

"Hey, Malfoy, I'm cold," she told Draco, who had already let go of her hand and never stopped walking. "Hey, Malfoy! Let's stop for a bit!"

She jogged to reach Draco and tugged on his arm. "Hey! Didn't you hear what I said?"

Finally, Draco stopped and turned to look at her. The anger in his eyes surprised Hermione and she withdrew her hand.

"What's with you?" she couldn't help but blurt out.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Then why are you looking at me like that?"

Draco broke eye contact and resumed walking. "Whatever they told you, don't think about it, all right?"

"Huh?"

"They talked to you, right?" said Draco, as Hermione jogged beside him.

"Yes,"

"Whatever they said, don't think about it."

"I don't understand."

Draco sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why people call you smart."

Hermione was insulted. "Hey!"

Draco acted like he didn't hear anything and walked faster.

"Malfoy, stop walking!" Hermione called out, clutching a stitch at her side. It was difficult to keep up with Draco since he was taller and had longer strides. "Malfoy, wait, please!"

Again, he did not heed her. Hermione's temper shot up.

"Draco! Stop right this instant!" she yelled. The sound of his first name got Draco. He stopped but didn't look back. Hermione took the cue and ran towards him, then making him face her. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I hate this house," he declared coldly.

Hermione was perplexed. "What did you say?"

"I hate this house. I hate being here."

"But Draco, this is your home,"

Draco scoffed. "That's the problem!"

Hermione sighed. "You know, you shouldn't have barged in like that,"

"What?"

"There, inside the house. It was very discourteous," she said, using Maud's favorite word.

"You sound like my grandmother," observed Draco.

"Yeah well, what you did wasn't right,"

"Oh yeah?" snapped Draco, "Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

"I'm just saying that they're your family. Whatever they say, whatever they do, you still don't have the right to just barge in like that and be rude to them,"

"Why? Weren't they rude to you?"

Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink. "Well, I'm not part of the family---"

"Well you will be and they're not going to stop it," reasoned Draco. At the mention of the wedding, Hermione remembered the news on the paper.

"About that, do you know that the news of the engagement is on the Muggle newspapers?"

Draco looked away. "Yeah."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me--- _you _were the one who put it there?"

"Well, not technically. But---"

"Oh my god! How dare you! We haven't even talked about it yet!"

"What do you mean? We already signed the contract, remember?" retorted Draco.

"But that's different! The both of us knowing about it is one thing, the _whole world_ knowing about it is completely another!" yelled Hermione.

"Don't exaggerate, Granger. It would've come out sooner or later,"

"I don't believe this!" exclaimed Hermione, stomping her feet. "You didn't even ask for my opinion about it!"

"What's there to ask?" Draco shouted back. "Geez, Granger, we're not yet married and you're already nagging!"

"I am not nagging!"

"You are, too!"

"Am not!"

Draco exhaled heavily, trying to control his temper. "What's the big deal, Granger? We're getting married, right?"

"You see, Malfoy, that's the problem!" said Hermione. "We are getting married. So from now on you should listen to what I say. You should understand what I feel---"

"Granger, this is a _contract_ marriage! This is not your fairytale romance here. I don't have to care about anything that concerns you. It's in the contract!"

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "I'm not stupid. I know it's a contract marriage. I'm not asking this because I have the illusion that we'll live happily ever after! I'm telling you this so that we could at least prevent biting one another's heads off!"

"So, what? You're actually doing me a favor?" scoffed Draco.

"Yes, Draco Malfoy, I'm doing you a favor."

Draco shook his head. "Stop already. If you want to do me a favor, shut up."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "How dare you!"

Draco exhaled again, raising both hands as if in surrender. "Just stop yelling and walk, Granger." As he said it, he started to move away, attempting to get away from the noisy Hermione. He walked more briskly, with longer strides. But Hermione wasn't finished yet. She followed Draco, her motor mouth not even slowing. She continued to talk about respect, hatred, Draco, marriage and anything else she could connect with that until they reached the gates. Draco stopped himself from kissing the gold bars in gratitude. Behind him, though panting, Hermione was still at it.

"---And just like that you make decisions that involve me! That is just wrong! And to think that your dear grandmother was lecturing me about courtesy! I cannot imagine that you could be _this_ rude! You know, I'm not even sure if the house is worth all of this! I'd probably die after two days of being alone with you!"

Draco felt his temples throbbing. All that time, he tried not to hex her; maids and gardeners might've been wandering around. If he did anything bad to Hermione, they all might run up the house, tell his grandmother and blow his cover. But Hermione was beginning to be too much. He tried to stop her by raising his hand and fixing her a glare. But she was too busy lamenting about god knows what.

Draco wasn't known for his patience. A second after, he snapped.

"SHUT UP!" He yelled so loudly, it stopped Hermione in mid-sentence. She looked at him as though he had sprouted another head. It took Draco some time before he could speak again. "I can't take it anymore, Granger. Shut up," he admonished hoarsely.

Hermione's jaw had slightly dropped at this, but she quickly recovered. "Why would I? So you could take advantage of my silence again?"

Draco looked menacingly at her. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you nicely, Granger. Shut. Up."

But she didn't. "No, I'm not going to shut up. I'm going to tell you what's on my mind and you can't do anything about it!"

"Oh yeah?" Draco challenged.

"Yeah."

Without warning, Draco grabbed her waist and pulled her roughly to him. Hermione drew a sharp intake of breath as her stomach pressed on to Draco's. Their faces were merely centimeters away from each other, his nose almost touching hers.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes couldn't look away from Draco's piercing ones.

"W-what a-are you doing?" Hermione stammered. She talked through her teeth, afraid that if she opened her mouth, something bad would happen.

She felt his left hand move to her lower back, his right hand gripping her waist tighter.

"Malfoy!" gasped Hermione, color rushing up to her cheeks. Both her hands were on his chest but it seemed as though her strength had been drained and she couldn't push him away.

Draco breathed calmly, and not breaking eye contact, he whispered, "Walk."

Hermione caught a whiff of his minty breath just before he pulled away. But the feel of his strong arms around her did not seem to disappear.

"Huh?" said Hermione, her mind a blank. She had to blink a couple of times before realizing that Draco was holding something in his left hand: her wand. Her eyes widened. "Draco, what---?"

Then it dawned on Hermione. She opened her mouth to shout but before she could, there was a small poof and Draco was gone.

He left Hermione in the cold darkness outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, wandless and completely clueless on how to get home.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Draco looked at his watch. It was 10 o'clock.

_Two hours,_ he thought.

He was lounging on the living room of Full House, his feet propped up on the coffee table and leisurely reading a Wizarding magazine with his face on the cover. And it had been two hours since he left Hermione in the dark.

He sighed. It's not like he was worried. He was sure that Hermione knew how to get home by herself. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself.

_But what's taking her so long?_

Draco closed the magazine and flung it away. Stretching, he got up and paced around the room, looking closely at the little sculptures, now and then, wiping their surfaces with his finger, checking if Hermione had cleaned them well and did not miss a spot. So far, everything was perfect. He sighed again.

"Stupid Granger," he muttered. "How hard could it be to get back here?"

A small voice in his head gave him several reasons: number one, she was wandless; number two, she was ambushed by gangsters; number three, she _really_ did not know how to get back. Draco dismissed the thoughts with a shake of his head.

He heard noises from upstairs. He peered from the banisters curiously.

_Meow._

It was Crookshanks and from his feeble meows, Draco guessed that he was hungry. He heard it scratching the door, wanting to be let out.

"Keep it down, you stupid cat!" he yelled at Crookshanks, taking out his frustration on Hermione's pet. "It's not my fault your master's too stupid that she couldn't find her way home! I did tell her to shut up, but what did she do?" Draco kicked at the nearest vase and it shattered at his feet. "Now I don't know where the hell she is! If she's not dead yet, I'm going to kill her when she gets home!"

Crookshanks continued to meow. Draco flopped back down on the couch and reached for the remote. He turned the TV on and searched for something decent to watch. But there was nothing good. With an angry grunt, he turned it off and threw down the remote. He could still hear Crookshanks purring from Hermione's room. He stood up and purposefully climbed the stairs, decided on silencing the cat. Crookshanks' meows grew louder as he approached. He jerked the door open as soon as he got there, taking the cat by surprise. It looked up at him, eyes wide. Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at Crookshanks.

The cat didn't move. It meowed at him innocently.

"You're not charming at all." Draco told Crookshanks. The feline looked insulted. "What? It's true. You look like you've ran into a wall,"

Crookshanks meowed indignantly.

"Hey! Don't you take that tone with me!" said Draco, waving his wand at the cat, which seemed unperturbed. Then Draco realized how stupid he must've seemed, talking to a cat like it could carry a normal conversation. Sighing, he pocketed his wand.

"You both are making me crazy," he muttered, pertaining to the bushy-haired witch. Without even giving it a second thought, he picked up Crookshanks into his arms. Even the cat was shocked at what he did. It started to struggle, probably thinking that Draco was going to throw him out the window.

"I'm just going to feed you," explained Draco irritably, trying not to lose his grip on Crookshanks. "Stop moving or your fur is going to get pulled out!" And as though Crookshanks understood, he settled comfortably in Draco's arms and purred. "Hey, don't get too close," warned Draco, "this shirt is expensive."

He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, slightly shaking his head, not believing that he was actually feeding the demonic beast that was Hermione's cat. Draco let him go as they reached the cabinets. He opened one drawer overhead, and rummaged for some cat food. He got two cans and looked at the labels.

"Hey, cat! Chicken or beef?" he asked Crookshanks. The cat meowed. "Never mind. I'll just give you chicken."

Draco returned the other can to the cabinet and put the chicken-flavored one on the counter. He brought out his wand again and opened the can with it. Summoning a bowl to him, he magically transferred the contents of the can to the bowl. Then, he took the bowl and left it on the marble floor. Crookshanks eagerly approached it and buried his head hungrily into the food bowl.

"Don't make too much of a mess or I'll toss you out," Draco told the feline. He then walked back to the living room and reparo-ed the vase he shattered. He also picked up the remote from the floor, straightened out the cover of the coffee table and arranged the pillows on the couch.

A moment later, he heard the tinker of something breaking. Draco dashed back to the kitchen and found Crookshanks on top of the counter. His empty bowl was beside the broken remains of a glass container of hot sauce.

"Hey!" exclaimed Draco. "What the hell are you doing? Get down from there!"

Crookshanks purred at him and jumped down, landing on the glass shreds and spilt hot sauce. The cat gave a high-pitched meow in pain.

"Whoa!" Draco quickly reached for Crookshanks and examined his feet. Some pieces of glass were sticking from his paws and they were bleeding. "Great," muttered Draco.

"What are you doing to my cat?"

Draco froze. Hermione was home.

He slowly turned around and saw the bedraggled Hermione, looking scandalized. Her eyes traveled from the empty food bowl, the broken glass and red liquid to Crookshanks' bleeding paws and face tainted with crimson. She looked like she was going to spontaneously combust.

Draco began to panic but tried not to show it. "Granger, it's not what it looks like---"

"The hell it's not!"

"Listen to me first, okay?"

Hermione made a grab for her cat, snatched him from Draco and protectively sheltered him in her arms. She was seething with anger. "I don't believe you!"

"Hey! I haven't said anything yet!"

"You don't have to say anything!" Hermione pointed an accusing finger at Draco. "First, you made me walk a mile in the dark from god knows where and then you try and _kill_ my cat! That's it! I've had enough!"

Hermione spun around and began walking away. Draco tried to stop her. "Granger, where are you going?"

"Away from you," she answered without looking back. Draco ran after her.

"Could you stop being melodramatic for a while and listen to me?"

Hermione seemed not to hear him. She had spotted her wand lying on the coffee table and ran to grab it. She then immediately muttered a spell and began healing Crookshanks' wounds.

Draco used the time to explain. "I was feeding him, you know. I left him for a while and then I heard something and I found the hot sauce container broken. I told him to get down from the counter so he did but he landed on the broken glass. Those wounds are his fault."

Hermione finished tending to Crookshanks and let him go. The cat automatically ran upstairs, wanting to avoid the storm of fury Hermione was about to release. Hermione looked at Draco and shook her head. "Do you actually expect me to believe that? You tell me I'm a bad liar but you're worse,"

"But it's true---"

"So you're telling me that you _fed_ Crookshanks?"

"Yes!" Draco said emphatically.

"Malfoy, you hate my cat. You wouldn't touch him even if I let you. And now you're saying that you fed him?"

Draco slid his hand into his pocket. "Well, he was being noisy so I figured feeding him would keep him quiet,"

"Oh wow. Thanks, Malfoy," said Hermione, smiling widely.

Draco blinked at her. "Huh?"

"I said thank you. For being the kind, concerned man that you are," Hermione was still smiling.

Draco didn't expect that but tried to look nonchalant. "Oh yeah, sure, no prob--- hey!"

Hermione had flung a little statue at him. Draco had quickly ducked, thanks to his Quidditch reflexes. The statue smashed into the wall and burst into pieces.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!" yelled Hermione. "I can't take this anymore!"

"What is your problem? You almost hit my face!" asked Draco angrily.

Hermione laughed harshly. "Well that was exactly what I was aiming for!"

"Granger, clearly _you_ have issues!"

"Me? Issues?" Hermione took a step toward Draco. "You like torturing me, making me suffer and now you tell me I have issues! I've had enough of this! I've had enough of _you_!"

Draco gritted his teeth. "You think you're the only person who _likes_ this situation? You think I like living with you? Well I don't! I can't stand looking at you!"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You have the nerve to say that, after you started all this! You forget, _you_ were the one who took this house away from me! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I _bought_ this house! YOU should be the one to leave it! I don't know why I even took pity on you and let you live here!"

"Oh! So now I should thank you, huh?"

"Yes, you ungrateful witch!"

"Well, THANK YOU, MALFOY! Thank you for making my life a living hell!" shouted Hermione. "And thank you for making me realize that agreeing to marry you was the worst decision I have ever made!"

"What?"

Hermione breathed heavily. "The wedding is off."

Draco was outraged. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm not going to marry you. I'm willing to let go of this house just to get away from you."

"You can't just do that! We've signed the contract!" argued Draco.

"Well, I don't give a damn about that stupid contract! I'm not going to marry you, Malfoy, and that's final!"

Hermione pocketed her wand and began walking towards the stairs. Draco followed her.

"Fine! The wedding is off! You think I care about that? I don't want to marry you, too!" he yelled at her retreating back. "Go then! Pack your things and leave! Get out of my house, Granger!"

Hermione didn't reply and went straight to her room. The door was ajar and she went it. Crookshanks was lying on top of one of her suitcases, a paw covering his face. She approached her cat and stroked his fur.

"Don't be scared Crookshanks, we're leaving," she told him in a soothing voice.

BANG!

Hermione jumped, Crookshanks hissed at the sound. It was Draco and he just went into his room and closed the door with such force that the hinges rattled. Hermione tried hard not to cry and started packing her things. It was good thing that she decided not to unpack everything, just in case things like this happened. Hermione took the few clothes she had put into the closet. Then she realized that she had her wand with her. Draco had been prohibiting her from using magic for almost a week that she had been used to it. Now, Hermione didn't care about what Draco wanted. She used her wand to put her things in order. As soon as everything was arranged, she made her baggage as light as a feather and carried them with ease down the stairs, with Crookshanks just behind her.

She could already feel that familiar sting in her eyes, but she fought hard to keep the tears from falling. She walked faster and before long was already out the front door. In the middle of the front lawn, she stopped and took one last look at her beautiful home. She decided that she shouldn't stay too long, for the longer she looked at it, the harder it became for her to leave it. Bowing her head and strengthening her resolve, she beckoned for Crookshanks to follow her and the two of them walked down the dark street.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Mmm, this tastes really good, wisheart!" Ned complimented as Sheila fed him a spoonful of stew that evening. They were comfortably sitting at their dining table, having a peaceful dinner at their new apartment. Soft music played in the background.

"It's good that you liked it, I cooked it for you," said Sheila sweetly. Ned gave her a smile just as sweet.

He stroked the side of her face. "You know what, wisheart, I'm really excited to be a dad,"

"Really?"

"Yes. I can't wait to see little Colgate,"

Sheila giggled. "I'm sure you're going to make a great daddy,"

Their eyes locked. Ned leaned forward slowly.

_Ding dong._

The doorbell rang just as the Sheila closed her eyes for a kiss.

"Darn it," muttered Ned, pulling away.

"You should see who it is, wisheart," said Sheila, cheeks still pink. "It's awfully late,"

Ned stood up and shook his head. "This better be important,"

He dragged his feet toward the door and opened it with a less-than-welcoming face.

"Hullo, good evening," he greeted.

"Good evening, Ned,"

He blinked.

"Hermione?"

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Next Chapter: Ermmm, I'd rather not say :)

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A/N: So? Well, I just **love **making Hermione and Draco fight, don't you? Well, they both seem a little hysterical here but I think they would have that kind of tension **if**they really were in the same situation. Well, anyways, I made it shorter just so I could update earlier. My god, you people are THE BEST! I have 480 hits on this fanfic, starting from when I posted chapter 5. 18 people have it on their favorites list and 7 have it on their alert list. And even though I only have a small number of reviews, it's okay. Much love to everyone! Especially to: Chewy518, curlygntx, eesah, EngShin, koel, mzchilin, OrgnlAmagic, ozzycow, Pandia, PaRTy-GiRL089, Payne no Akuma, pinkstar146, power214063, Red and Gold, smileyjenny, thespare617, unspottedgiraffe and Venursia. Thanks for making my story your favorite! Mwahz!

Guys, R&R, please! I'm a bit review-driven so I need the encouragement. Flames are accepted, as long as they're related to the fanfic. Cheerio!


	7. The Wedding

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: I just realized that my fanfic just became AU. Well, it's not that big of a deal, actually, because after book seven, every fanfic would be AU. Before the chapter, a few shout-outs first:

**Chewy518 – **thank you for letting my fanfic capture your attention! Hugs to you!

**curlyqntx** – muchas gracias!

**xxicedfirexx – **Sheila and Ned would have their use so don't hate them too much. But yeah, they are so annoying, aren't they? Kisses to you!

**greenday409 – **what can I say, I love cliffies:)

**monkicraziemprez – **persuasive, huh? Heehee

**OrgnlAmagic – **Draco didn't tell Pansy because he isn't the type of guy that would confess undying love in front of a crowd, _especially _if it was true. My story is something between loosely-based and dead on. Loosely based because the real leading man was an actor, and Draco is not. So I have to invent a lot of stuff. But as for plot, it's dead on, so yeah… that's that. Thanks for the great reviews!

**Koel** – if you strangle me, I _surely _ wouldn't be able to update:) This chapter would probably satisfy you, for now… –wink-

And now, on with the show!

Chapter 7: The Wedding

"Hermione?"

Ned's jaw dropped. "How-- how'd you---?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "I have my sources."

Ned noticed that her eyes were red and slightly puffy. It looked like she just cried.

"Hermione, what happened?"

Sheila had heard Hermione's name and ran to the door.

"Oh my gosh! Hermione! What are you doing here?" Her eyes spotted the several bags that were at Hermione's feet. Crookshanks was standing beside her, his bottlebrush tail held high up. "What's with all the luggage?"

Hermione sighed. "Can I come in? It's freezing out here,"

Ned hesitated. "Ermm, I don't think---"

"Oh come on, of course you can!" interjected Sheila, pulling Hermione inside. "Come in, come in! Ned, carry Hermione's bags inside please,"

Ned shook his head and obeyed his wife. Crookshanks followed his master inside.

"Have a seat," offered Sheila, motioning to the small couch in the living room. Hermione sat gratefully, her eyes roaming around the apartment. It was very modest, with only basic furniture. A medium-sized couch and a wooden coffee table consisted the living room. Just a little way back were two doors. To the left was the small kitchen and dining table. Hermione, though she knew Ned and Sheila took advantage of her, felt sorry for the couple.

"I'm really sorry to barge in here like this," she said slowly. She saw the food on the dining table. "It looks like you were in the middle of dinner,"

Sheila laughed off Hermione's apology. "It's okay, no problem! How about you, have you eaten? You look beat,"

Hermione gave a wry smile. "You could say that,"

"Wait here, I'll get you something," said Sheila, and went to get Hermione a plate.

Ned sat beside her.

"What's wrong? We thought you were angry with us?"

Hermione grinned at him. "Yeah well, I still am. But you're the only family I have left..."

Ned suddenly felt guilty again. "Hey, we told you we're sorry, right,"

"Yeah,"

Sheila came back with her food: mashed potatoes and stew. Hermione took it from her with a smile. "Thanks,"

Sheila smiled back. "So tell us, what's up?" She motioned for Ned to move and squeezed into the couch. "It's pretty late,"

"I'm sorry. It's just that... the wedding is off."

Ned and Sheila were shocked. "What?" they shouted in unison.

Hermione sighed and began eating. "Wedding's off. And I need a place to stay," she expounded in between a mouthful of stew.

"B-but Hermione, he's our only chance!" said Ned. Sheila elbowed him in he ribs. "Ow! I mean, he's _your_ only chance!"

"For what?"

"For a better life," said Sheila. "Did you quarrel?"

Hermione snorted. "You have no idea,"

Ned dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "That's normal for a couple! You shouldn't make hasty decisions just because you had a little fight,"

"Actually, we had a big fight---"

"It doesn't matter!" argued Sheila, "Come on, Hermione, are you just going to throw away a great relationship just because your tempers got the better of you?"

Hermione wanted to laugh at Sheila. Great relationship? Being with Draco seemed like waging a daily war, complete with nuclear weapons.

"I think you should think twice about it," said Ned. "I mean, what about the preparations for the wedding? What about his family? I'm sure they're going to be upset when they hear about this."

Hermione swallowed. She remembered Maud's warnings and from the looks of her, she was the type that kept her words. She fought down the creeping dread.

"I don't care about what his family says," she retorted, eating another spoonful of mashed potato. "We're over."

"And what did, what was his name again? Oh right, Draco. What did Draco say about this?"

Hermione handed Crookshanks a piece of carrot. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yep. He wants it, too,"

Ned's brow furrowed. "He wants it, too? I don't believe you. I mean, have you talked to him after you fought?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "After the fight, I packed all my things and left."

Sheila's jaw dropped. "Hermione!"

"What? There was no point in staying---"

"That's where you're wrong," said Ned. "I bet he's already sorry for what happened. I bet he's already worried to death about you. I bet he's already driving around in his Porsche looking for you,"

Hermione scoffed. "Yeah, I bet."

"Come on, Hermione, give me your phone." Ned reached out his hand to Hermione.

"What? Why?"

"So I could call him and tell him you're here and he could come and pick you up!"

Hermione stood up quickly, almost spilling her food. "No! You're not going to do anything of the sort!"

Sheila and Ned stood up. "Don't be stubborn, Hermione!" remarked Sheila. "Just let Ned handle it,"

"No!" Hermione took a step back.

Ned stepped forward. "Hermione, be reasonable---"

"No! Get away! You're not calling him, all right?"

"But Hermione---"

Crookshanks jumped in front of Hermione and hissed at Ned and Sheila dangerously. They stopped and looked surprised at Crookshanks.

"Step back," warned Hermione.

"Okay, calm down," said Ned, retreating. "Calm down, Crookshanks,"

The couple sat back down. Hermione visibly relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Ned, Sheila. It's just that I don't want to see him again, okay? Please don't try and make things better because you can't. I think this is what's best for both of us. And I'm okay with it, I'm happy, see?" Hermione beamed at them.

But Sheila wasn't going to give up. "But Hermione, this is going on _way_ too fast,"

_Tell me about it,_ thought Hermione.

"At least think about it,"

"And besides, you can't stay here," Ned added. Hermione fixed him a look. "I mean, you can't stay here forever! I'm sure Draco would come looking for you and you'd see him eventually." Sheila nodded in assent.

Hermione finished her stew and gave the rest of her mashed potatoes to Crookshanks. "I'm not planning to stay here forever. I'll look for another place---" Ned smiled, "---as soon as you pay me back."

Ned grimaced. "But Hermione---"

"But what? It's your fault I don't have money,"

Sheila gave her a sheepish grin. "But we also don't have money..."

"Then, we'll wallow in self pity together!" Hermione smiled widely at them again. "I love your stew, by the way!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

So Hermione settled at Ned and Sheila's apartment. In the morning, Ned left to look for work. The two girls did the household chores together and shared stories when they were finished. Sheila liked to take naps in the afternoon, so while she was asleep, Hermione scribbled furiously on her notebook; for in her haste, she had left her laptop in the house. And there was no way she was going back to where Draco was.

For her part, Hermione kept giving works to nearby publishing companies. She had also begun to search the papers for writing contests to join. The prize money would definitely help the couple, since they had another mouth to feed.

Every night, they would hang out on balcony (the apartment was on the 5th floor) and drink beer until they were senseless. Except for Sheila, of course, since she was pregnant. Sheila would merely join in their conversations, drink pineapple juice and after Hermione and Ned were drunk, would be the one to drag them inside and cover them with blankets.

It was the seventh night since Hermione arrived and the three were once again out in the balcony, laughing and singing while drinking their favorite beverages. Hermione was particularly rowdy that night, because she had won third place in a short story writing contest that morning and got twenty pounds for it. After a sumptuous dinner, Hermione bought a crate of beer and began drinking. The hype of winning apparently stuck to her.

"Sssoooo haaaapppyyyyyy..." slurred Hermione. She looked very drunk; eyelids drooping and cheeks red. She took a swig from what seemed to be her eight bottle of beer. "Caaaan't beleev I wooon!"

Ned was more sober than Hermione and watched her closely, just in case she decided to jump up in glee and fall five stories down. He grinned at her.

"Yeah, nice work, Hermione!"

Hermione returned his grin. "Shtooopeed peeephul who theeenk I'm noo goood! I shooowed them, dint I?"

"You sure did," agreed Sheila. "Oh wait, your bottle's empty! Here, have another one!"

Hermione happily took the new bottle of beer from her friend, spilling half of it before she had taken a sip. Her hands were terribly shaking. Soon enough, she had lost her grip on the bottle and it smashed into pieces as it hit the floor.

"Oopsshh!" said Hermione, giggling uncontrollably. She attempted to pick up the pieces but Ned stopped her.

"Here let me handle it. You might hurt yourself," he said, reaching out. Hermione giggled again.

"Niiiiiiiiice, Neeeeeeed." She hiccupped. "Draaco would've maade me pick it up, goddamned bastard!"

Sheila glanced knowingly at Ned before speaking to Hermione. "Would he? How awful!"

Hermione banged her hand on the table. "Damn right! Aaaawffuuuuullll leeettle ferrrrrrrettt!"

Sheila laughed. "You seem like you really hate him,"

"Ha! You have no idea!" replied the drunken Hermione. Apparently, her tongue had gone loose with all the alcohol. "Draaaaco is a noooo gooood son of a---"

"Hey! You're beer's spilling!" interjected Ned.

"Huh?"

Hermione looked down and sure enough, what was left of her beer had slopped down on her pants and half of her body was soaked in the liquid.

She hiccupped. "Shit."

Ned was just about to comment when without warning, Hermione's head hit the wooden table with a loud thump. She had fallen asleep.

Sheila went directly to Hermione's side. After checking that her friend was still breathing and her forehead was not bleeding, Sheila quickly grabbed Hermione's arms and attempted to hoist her up.

"Ned! Help!"

Ned quickly came to his wife's side and helped her pull Hermione inside the house, carefully avoiding the big mess she had just made. Once they had laid Hermione on the floor, Sheila began digging into the pockets of Hermione's wet pants. Ned watched her closely.

"Faster! She might wake up!" he whispered.

Sheila was having a hard time, however, because the denim clung to Hermione's body. After a few minutes of searching, her face scrunched up, Sheila extracted Hermione's cell phone from her left front pocket.

"Here it is!" she said, holding the gadget up. Ned grabbed it from his wife's hand.

"I hope it still works," he muttered, starting to press some buttons.

Sheila glanced cautiously at Hermione, who was slightly snoring. "I thought she was never going to stop drinking," she commented. "I never knew she could drink that much." Her face scrunched up in disgust as she remembered the several bottles Hermione had emptied.

Ned who hadn't been listening to Sheila and was busy looking for something in Hermione's phonebook suddenly gave a whoop of joy. "I found it!"

"Then go on, call him,"

Ned didn't need to be told. A few seconds later, the line crackled and the person picked up.

"Who's this?"

"Hello, Draco?"

"Who are you?" Draco sounded surprised. "Why do you have Granger's cell phone?"

Sheila watched expectantly as Ned replied.

"Draco, this is Ned. Ned Bartleby. I'm Hermione's friend."

"So?"

"I just wanted to tell you she's here. With me and my wife, Sheila. She's doing okay; we're taking good care of her." Ned looked at the drunken Hermione, wet and sleeping on the floor and at his wife who was giving him a thumbs-up sign. "She's absolutely fine."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes,"

"Don't call me again."

Before Ned could react, the line was dead. Ned was shocked.

"Hey, what happened?" asked Sheila, crawling nearer.

"I can't believe it! He told me not to call him again!"

Sheila gasped. "What?"

"He didn't even ask about Hermione, like he didn't care what happened to her!"

"He sounds mean..."

Ned nodded. "I know,"

"But he's rich,"

"Yeah."

"Go call him again."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

For the second time that night, Draco's cell phone rang. He was sitting on his bed and poring over some documents when the mobile phone lighted up and began to ring. He looked at it, trying to decide whether to answer it or not. In the end, he picked up.

"What?" he asked gruffly, not even bothering with niceties.

"Hello, Draco?"

Draco growled. "You again! I just told you not to call me,"

The line crackled. "Well, I thought you haven't heard me right. It's Hermione---"

"Listen, I'm not stupid. I heard what you said and I don't give a bloody damn. So leave me the hell alone!" He was about to end the call, but Ned continued talking.

"But she's your fiancée!"

"Hasn't she told you the wedding's off?"

"But we thought it was just a misunderstanding---"

Draco exhaled heavily. "It _was_ a misunderstanding, that's why we're not going on with it!"

Ned gave a feeble laugh. "You are clearly just confused about---"

Draco didn't wait for him to finish. He ended the call and threw the cell phone down on the bed, pissed.

Misunderstanding was the understatement of the century. Draco knew deep down that things weren't going to be a walk in the park with Hermione, so he was prepared to actually put up with the annoying witch. But the fights proved to be things way beyond his control. He thought it was best that Hermione had left. It had been a week and he was vaguely wondering where she had gone. But he didn't exactly worry. Worrying about Hermione was as pointless as... as... worrying about Hermione. Draco was simply not used to it.

And he absolutely did not care about what happened to her or where she ended up. That was why it was a shock that her friend bothered to call him about her. He thought that probably Hermione had forced his friend to call him and just see if he cared. He knew she couldn't resist him. Sorry for her, he didn't bother.

He went back to the papers he was reading. He finally had the time and the will to concentrate on the business when Hermione left. Not having her around brought peace and order into his life. And he intended on keeping it that way.

Draco had just finished digesting the first sentence of the third paragraph when another ring disturbed his train of thought. He glanced at the mobile phone which was faced down on the bed and groaned as he saw it lighting up.

"For Merlin's sake!" he muttered, irked. He considered blowing the bloody thing up but then again, he wouldn't have time to get another one, since he was particularly swamped with papers to sign, documents to read and contracts to approve. Gathering what was left of his patience (which had always been pretty thin), he picked up the gadget and stopping himself from yelling at the caller, merely grunted into it.

"Draco?"

Draco recognized the authoritative voice at once. "Mr. Rochester?"

"Yes, good evening Draco, I hope I haven't disturbed you,"

Draco looked at the overwhelming pile of papers on the floor beside his bed. "No, not at all."

"Good." The line crackled. "Do you know what date is it tomorrow?"

Draco groaned. How could he? In fact, if he had the choice, he would've spent half of his money in Gringotts just to forget what would happen the next day.

"Is there a problem?" asked Mr. Rochester, though he sounded like he knew what was going on.

"Erm. No. There is no problem."

"What is it, Draco?"

"What is what, Mr. Rochester?"

Mr. Rochester gave a deep rumbling laugh. "I have known you since you were two. Don't think I can't tell that you're lying."

Draco tried to laugh, too but he was met with silence from the other line. He sighed.

"You know me too well, Mr. Rochester,"

"Tell me, Draco, how exactly did this come about?" Draco was right. Mr. Rochester did know that there was no wedding to take place the next day.

"You don't have to know," answered Draco a bit impolitely. Remembering his fight with Hermione never failed to make him feel rather furious. "Wedding's off, that's that,"

There was a strange buzzing sound before he heard Mr. Rochester. "That fast?"

"Father doesn't think so,"

"Well I thought you didn't care about what your father thought,"

"I still don't," snapped Draco. "And he doesn't have anything to do with this."

Mr. Rochester laughed again. "Draco, everything about you involves your father."

Draco didn't reply.

"Don't make Miss Granger a tool for retaliation against Lucius,"

"And don't try taking me on a guilt trip because it's all over---"

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"And how does Miss Granger feel about this?"

Draco wanted to tell him that he doesn't give a damn about what she felt but he bit his lip. "Not happy, I suppose," he lied. Honestly, he could just imagine Hermione holding a party right after she up and left the house.

"I will be straight with you, Draco. What you're doing, these rash decisions, scandalous actions, it's taking a toll on the company. They reflect you Draco, as a person and as a leader. An indecisive leader at that. This would not look good for us."

This made Draco think. It would be hypocritical of him to say that he had thought of the company and how his actions would affect it. He was not used to thinking about anything that went beyond himself. He was used to having people taking care of the mess he made, running around him, keeping things in order and under control. All he had to do was to be there. The rest was their job.

Now it was different. He actually had to depend on himself and not on paid assistants and servants. There would be no one to take the blame for his mistakes. He would have to face the consequences of each error alone.

Draco swallowed. Now that Rochester had brought it up, he had realized that letting Hermione leave after letting the world know of their "marriage" was a wrong move. For one thing, it would destroy his reputation. If he couldn't straighten out his personal life, how can investors and business partners trust him? Second, though he was quite sure that his grandmother would actually rejoice at the news, his mother would be devastated. During recent Floo visits, she had been hinting that Hermione would be good for him. Narcissa would surely be saddened by their break-up. And thirdly, there was his father. Rochester was right. Everything he did involved his father. If Lucius would find out that the wedding was off, he would not miss the opportunity to gloat at Draco, probably to tell him that his cowardice sometimes brought out the desired results.

The smug look on his father's face made Draco grip the cellular phone tighter.

"Draco, are you still there?" asked Mr. Rochester, noticing the uncharacteristically long silence.

"Yes I am."

"Did you understand what I said?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to do about it then?" Mr. Rochester asked further. "But let me be clear, Draco, I will not be feeding you the answers. I want you to make the decision on your own. I don't want to force you into anything,"

Draco smirked. If there was one large difference between Rochester and his father, that would be it. Lucius did everything by force.

"If you are decided to call off the wedding, I could make the proper announcements by tomorrow morning. I could cancel everything. The guests would be informed. None of them would be too happy, I reckon they would've have bought their gifts by now. To be honest, I would have preferred it if you had told me about this earlier. But if it's what you want---"

Draco bit his lip again. Yes, it was very stupid of him to not tell anyone that Hermione had left and there was to be no wedding. He had been too busy and too angry to actually go up and tell everybody to stop the preparations because they were all useless. For an entire week he kept quiet while his mother pestered him with a million questions, often asking where Hermione had gone for she never saw her. Draco lied and told his mother that Hermione was in Zimbabwe, taking her last trip as a single woman. It sounded fishy but Narcissa was never the nosy one. Miraculously, they had arranged everything there was to be arranged, without help from the supposed bride and groom. Borrowing Narcissa's words, "Everything was set. As perfect as they could ever imagine." Frankly, Draco found it funny that when the day arrived, neither he nor Hermione would show up. How perfect.

"Draco?" said Mr. Rochester again. "Talk to me, boy,"

"I'm here," repeated Draco. "Just thinking,"

"Good, then. I want you to think about it."

It wasn't like it was too hard to reach a decision. The answer was obvious. Draco just didn't want to admit it yet.

He pondered about it for another few minutes. He argued with himself, but then it came to him that all the pondering was fruitless because all the facts were pointing to one solution. Draco vaguely wondered if he would have a shred of pride left after this as he finally told Rochester what he wanted and abruptly ended the call to make another one.

One ring was all it took.

"Hello? Draco?"

"Cut the crap, Nel---"

"Ned---"

"Whatever. Listen closely. I want you to do something for me,"

"What?"

"Bring back Granger."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was early the next day. Shafts of sunlight streamed through the gaps of the curtained windows. Birds were twittering happily in the treetops. The air smelled of flowers and talcum powder.

Hermione still wanted to sleep, though her back ached from sleeping on the hard floor. But unfortunately, she wouldn't be getting anything she wanted that day.

"Hermione wake up! Wake up!"

Sheila's shrilly voice was tainted with urgency as she violently shook Hermione awake.

"W-wha---?" muttered Hermione with eyes still half-closed.

"I said wake up! We have to go!"

"Can't. Sleepy. Later." In Hermione's opinion, it was too early for complete sentences.

Sheila was not to be deterred, though. She kept on bugging her friend.

"Hermione, please, wake up! We really need to go, now!"

Hermione heard padded footsteps and a moment later, another two hands held her shoulders and helped Sheila shake her.

It was Ned. "Sheila's not joking Hermione! It's about Draco!"

Hermione groaned. "I don't want to hear anything about him!"

"Well, if you also don't want to see him, then you better get up now,"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Hermione tried to focus her blurred vision on Ned's face creased with worry.

Sheila looked just as alarmed. "Hermione, Draco knows that you're here. And he's coming to get you,"

That made Hermione sit up with a jolt. "What?"

"He called your phone. He said he was coming,"

Hermione was confused. "B-but how'd he know I was here? I haven't told anybody!"

"Now's not the time to answer your questions, Hermione," said Ned, pulling Hermione to her feet. "We have to go. We've already packed your things. Pick up Crookshanks and follow us,"

"What? Why? Where are we going?" asked Hermione as Ned let her go and picked up her luggage. Sheila, meanwhile, picked Crookshanks up and deposited him in Hermione's arms. "Wait, can't I take a bath first?" She looked down at her soiled pants which still smelled strongly of beer. Her hair must've looked worse because Ned and Sheila seemed to reconsider as they stared at it.

But Ned finally waved a hand in dismissal. "No time! You can take a bath when we get there---"

"Get where?"

Sheila pushed her towards the door. "Stop asking and just trust us!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Twenty minutes later, they got off the cab and the three of them started sprinting towards a grand building, which had uniformed guards guarding the entrance. Hermione screeched to a halt.

"Wait a minute," she said, looking up at the name of the place. It said _Hilton Hotel_ in letters made of metal and painted in gold. "This is a hotel, why are we going in?"

Sheila and Ned exchanged glances before Sheila pulled Hermione to a run again. "I told you stop asking questions---"

"But I don't have money!"

"Don't worry, we'll handle it,"

Something told Hermione that something was terribly wrong. Every time Sheila told her they could handle it, there was a little pinch in her stomach that made her extremely queasy.

Hermione had no choice but to let Sheila drag her inside by the arm. She found it very dubious that the guards didn't even try to stop them from entering the posh hotel, seeing that Hermione looked like a drunk who had slept on the sidewalk. They merely looked at her, with a slightly disgusted look on their faces but did not make any attempt to block their way.

The three of them sprinted down the marvelous hall. There was a huge gold fountain at the very center. Scattered across the room were comfy-looking beige couches, armchairs and coffee tables with lush flower arrangements on top. The walls were full of huge paintings of scenic landscapes. In every corner were elegant statues and sculptures of half-naked women and angels. Hermione has never seen that much of the color gold in her entire life.

There were only a few people lounging around, but all of them looked like snobby socialites. The disgusted look they wore on their faces was identical to the one the guards had given Hermione. She stopped from looking around and bowed her head in embarrassment. They continued running until they reached the elevator. Panting slightly, Ned punched the up button and waited impatiently for the metal doors to open.

Even Sheila was stomping her feet in eagerness.

"Faster, faster," muttered Ned.

"We're going to be late," Sheila added, giving Ned an admonitory slap in the arm.

Ned frowned. "Hey! It's not my fault! I told you to wake her up earlier!"

Hermione held a hand up in front of them. "Care to tell me what you're rambling on about?"

Sheila and Ned stared at her blankly.

"What?"

At that exact moment, the elevator opened and a bellboy greeted them promptly.

"Good day, sir, ladies,"

"Yeah, yeah," said Ned, quickly getting inside, the two girls behind him. An old lady wearing a classic white mink fur coat followed them inside, giving Hermione a particularly condescending glare. Hermione managed to give her a wry smile.

Because of the old lady's presence, Hermione decided not to press Ned and Sheila for answers and remained quiet for their entire elevator ride. As they reached the seventh floor, she heard the familiar "ting" and the doors opened. Ned and Sheila rushed out of the elevator, still pulling at Hermione. Her arm was becoming pretty sore.

Ned had his head tilted up, looking at the numbers on the room doors, scanning for a particular one.

"761, 762, here it is! 763!" he exclaimed, as they reached a door at the very end of the hall. Without even knocking, Ned turned the knob and pushed it open.

Hermione tried to stop him. "Wait! You can't do that!"

"Why?"

"We haven't checked in yet, someone must've---"

"Oh just stop it, Hermione!" Ned suddenly pushed her inside the room. Hermione was surprised and almost toppled over as she tripped on the red carpet.

"Hey!"

"Stay there, Hermione," said Sheila, already closing the door. Hermione had enough sense to stop her from doing so and blocked her hand on the doorway.

"Why are you leaving me here?"

Ned's face peeked in from outside. "Draco won't find you here,"

"Are you sure? Because this seems like a place he would probably go to---"

"Hermione, you don't have money!" answered Sheila impatiently, "How can you check into a hotel?"

"Oh right,"

"We're going, so just stay put," said Ned.

"You're leaving me?"

Sheila gave her an apologetic smile. "Well, not exactly,"

"You can't leave me here, I don't have a penny on me!"

"Well that's why we're leaving," Ned replied. "We're going to, uh, get money,"

"Where?"

"In a bank?"

"You don't have an account," Hermione pointed out.

Sheila dismissed her with a wave. "Oh Hermione, just leave it to us and when the day's over, you're going to have all the money we, er, I mean you need,"

Hermione bit her lip. "Okay. But don't take too long,"

"Got it,"

"And get me some food. Spaghetti. And garlic bread,"

"All right, spaghetti on the way!"

With that Hermione removed her hand and let Sheila close the door with a faint click.

Hermione leaned on the door tiredly. Closing her eyes and breathing heavily, she tried to calm herself down and tell herself that she was going to be okay. Draco wasn't going to catch her.

At that moment, she heard scratching noises. Hermione opened her eyes and strained to hear where it was coming from. Then it hit her.

"Crookshanks!"

She immediately opened the door and sure enough, her cat was waiting there, looking as tired as she was.

She scooped up Crookshanks in her arms and gave him a particularly wet kiss. "Oh Crookshanks! I am so sorry! I almost forgot about you,"

Crookshanks meowed in a way that told her she was forgiven.

Turning around, Hermione decided to inspect her new surroundings. She put down Crookshanks and allowed him to roam around the room.

It was one of those special guest suites with a living room. It was luxuriously decorated with thick curtains of red which were drawn open, giving a very good view of the busy city. The curtains matched the carpet perfectly. There was a four-person sofa at the very center, with two armchairs with green velvet covers. The coffee table was made of black glass and held an expensive-looking silver statuette of a dolphin. In one corner was a tall oak bookshelf filled with hardbound books and magazines. A lamp was standing near the door, right beside a side table with a flower vase filled with lilies on top. Hermione paced around, carefully touching the things she found most amusing. Crookshanks was currently entertaining himself with the doormat, clawing and scratching at it. To the right was the an elegant dinette, with a chandelier right above the table surrounded by six high back chairs. To the right were two doors, probably the ones leading to the bedroom and bathroom. Hermione suddenly remembered that she had not taken a bath yet. Relieved that she could finally fix herself up, she pushed open the nearest door.

She almost had a heart attack as six maids in uniform greeted her with a bow.

"W-what the---"

"Good morning, Miss Granger. We are here to assist you," said the one in the center, whose blonde hair was tied in a neat bun.

But Hermione had had enough of intruders.

_Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ she thought, as she slowly pulled out her wand from her pocket.

"Ladies, I'm very sorry," she said, as she prepared to attack, "but I really don't have time for you right now."

She pointed her wand at the one who spoke.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

Much to her astonishment and panic, all six ladies had also drawn wands and were aiming them right at her.

"I'm sorry, too, Miss Granger," the blonde one spoke again, "but I suppose you'll just have to make time for us."

_Shit._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The ballroom was ready. The entire room was lighted up by five crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. There were no windows and the white walls were covered by white silk curtains. The floor was of white marble, streaked with gray and it sparkled as it reflected the light from the chandeliers. Almost a hundred round tables also covered with white silk filled the room; each table seating four people. At the center of each table was an ornate arrangement of white and red roses. The silverware were already laid out and they gleamed in the light. To the left and to the right were two long buffet tables filled with sumptuous-looking food: cold cuts, deserts, fish, gravy, potatoes, bowls of punch and lots more. A three feet wide red carpet divided the room into two; it started from the double doors to the small white altar at the other end of the room, where an elderly priest was patiently waiting.

As of that moment, the room was almost full. Almost everyone invited was already milling around, with champagne glasses in their hands, talking and laughing with one another, as though they were all old friends. Of course, Draco knew they were not. Half of them were Wizards, half of them were Muggles. But just for now, one won't be able to tell the difference.

Draco was currently in one corner of the room, trying to avoid talking to anyone at the moment. He was very comfortable and he kept on fidgeting with the buttons of his black coat. Anyone could tell that he was nervous; anyone except himself, of course, since he would not admit it. He thought that his vest was too tight and it constricted his breathing, that his tie simply did not match the texture of his coat and pants, that his shoes were too shiny, and that his hair was not properly gelled. A strand of it kept falling in front of his left eye and he had to push it away after every two seconds. He also could not stop his heart from beating so fast.

Draco watched as his guests laughed and smiled and greeted his parents congratulations. His mother, Narcissa, looked marvelous in an off-white ensemble. His father was also very handsome, though his all-black outfit made it look like he was going to a funeral rather than his own son's wedding. Well, at least they were both smiling (though it was not hard to notice that his father's smile was a bit forced). His grandmother was currently very busy yelling at the waiters for every little mistake. In short, she was also enjoying herself.

He wished he could also enjoy himself. But Draco felt like he was waiting for his turn on the guillotine. For one, he had not yet seen Hermione. He's not even sure if those annoying friends of hers were able to follow his commands and bring her here. He knew that if Hermione knew what was going on, she wasn't going to go without a fight. If her friends weren't so lucky, they would've had suffered so many hexes by now that they wouldn't look the same. He wished there was a way to find out if she was really coming. She was already twenty minutes late and his mother was beginning to show little signs of worry. When she looked at Draco, he tried hard to give her an encouraging smile, secretly cursing Hermione for making them all wait.

Draco was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice that someone had come up beside him.

"Hello Draco,"

It was Pansy, wearing a delicate pink strapless dress and smiling at Draco as though he was not going to be married any minute now.

Draco had hoped Pansy wouldn't come, because it would be doubly hard for him to get on with the ceremony with her watching. He was agitated enough, thank you very much, and he didn't need another nagging distraction that would make him regret getting married.

But of course, his pride did not let him show any sign of remorse. He beamed at her before giving her a warm hug.

"Pansy! I'm so glad you could come," he told her, his voice slightly wavering. He tried to keep up his smile.

She returned a grin. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm so happy for you!"

Draco managed a "thank you" because he could not sincerely agree with her.

"You look dashing," complimented Pansy, adjusting Draco's tie. "I love your tie,"

"Really? I thought it was too dark---"

"No, it's okay." She smiled again. "It's perfect."

Draco couldn't say anything. He had heard enough of the word "perfect" in the past couple of days that would last him a lifetime.

"So, where's Hermione?"

Draco didn't have to answer that question because all of a sudden, the double doors opened and a man had started to motion for everyone to settle down.

"Please take your seats; flower girls, bridesmaids, groomsmen, all participants, please take your positions," he said loudly. The crowd hurriedly moved to obey, whispering in excitement. Draco seriously thought his air supply had run out. He started to choke.

"Are you okay?" asked Pansy concernedly.

Draco smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Perhaps you're just nervous,"

"No I'm not!"

She laughed. "It's natural to be nervous, Draco. Now go on, take your position." Pansy pushed him gently to where he would stand. And since he had no best man (Draco insisted it was unnecessary), he stood alone. Pansy kissed him good luck before she went away to find her seat.

The priest gave a small nod at the pianist and at this signal, he started to play the wedding march. Draco swallowed. The ceremony had begun.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hermione simply did not like her dress. She was left alone in the room after three hours of preparing and she busied herself by scrutinizing her image in the huge mirror. She had calmed down enough for the maids to explain to her the real reason she was in their mercy. Of course, her first reaction was to get out of there and kill Ned and Sheila with her bare hands. But as the maids reasoned to her, she found herself yielding to what seemed like her fate. Hermione was a practical woman. And it's not like she didn't try to get out of the marriage. She did everything she could, in fact, but she still ended up in the situation she had worked so hard to avoid. Probably, Hermione thought, for some twisted reason she could not understand, this had to happen.

She scrunched her face up, as she attempted to be more comfortable in her dress, but failed miserably. She looked at herself from head to foot once again. Her hair was straightened for the occasion, tied up in an elegant twist at the back of her head. On top of her gleaming hairdo was a sparkling tiara. It was small, yet, considering its weight, Hermione believed that it had real diamonds. She had no problem with her make-up. It was light and simple, and it didn't make her look like a clown. Her jewelry was what she loved best. Teardrop diamond earrings with a matching necklace. Hermione had never worn something so beautiful, and expensive.

But her dress. Hermione grimaced. Her dress could've looked loads better.

It was unconventional, to say the very least. Instead of the long flowing white bridal gown she imagined, it was a short dress, coming down just a little bit below her knees. The top was a sleeveless bodice which showed some cleavage, connected to a short skirt which looked like it was tattered artfully. Sashes of these creatively torn strips decorated the entire dress, from the bodice and ended in unequal lengths, some just in the middle of the skirt, some extending to the upper half of her legs. The gown was so pale a yellow that it was close to being off-white. Hermione wondered who chose the dress. Perhaps it was Maud, trying to get back at her for being rude and discourteous.

There was a knock at her door.

"Come in," said Hermione, trying to boost up her cleavage.

A loud clearing of the throat distracted her and she looked up. When she saw who it was, she quickly removed her hands from her bosom, flushing.

"Miss Granger," greeted Lucius, an eyebrow raised.

Hermione gave him a hesitant smile.

"Are you ready?" he asked, "Or should I give you some more time?"

"No, I'm...I'm fine," replied Hermione, still rather red in the face.

"I see. Your father is dead, correct?"

Hermione blinked at Lucius. "Er, yes. Why'd you---"

"Then I will be the one to walk you down the aisle," Lucius interjected. "In the name of tradition."

"Right."

Lucius strode forward. "But before that, I would like you to answer a question. Honestly, if you could, Miss Granger." He fixed her a stare.

Hermione nodded. "Okay." She wished it was not one of those questions that don't deserve an honest reply.

"Do you love my son?"

Alas, it was.

Hermione tried not to fidget with her dress, as she stammered an answer. "Well, erm, Draco is...he is very...I think---"

Lucius smirked. "So you don't love him?"

"Well, that's not...I mean you seriously don't---"

"It doesn't matter, actually, if you say yes or no," interrupted Lucius, getting impatient. "I don't really care if you love him. I just wanted to see if I could scare you into backing out." He smiled evilly at her. Hermione was now thoroughly convinced that he was insane.

"Shall we?" asked Lucius, finally offering his arm to her. It took her a few seconds before she could make herself take it. She thought his arm was rather stiff.

Lucius was looking at Hermione strangely, as she took his arm. She looked him in the eye for two seconds before chickening out and bowing her head.

Lucius smirked again. "You know, Miss Granger, you look very pretty," he said, much to Hermione's astonishment. "In fact, you're too pretty for a Muggleborn."

With that, he opened the door and they walked out.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

If someone told Hermione a year ago that in twelve month's time, Lucius was going to walk her down the aisle to marry his son, Hermione would've laughed so hard, she would've died.

And at that moment, she seriously wished that she already was.

Arm in arm with Lucius, they had already entered the ballroom. Hermione's heart was beating to fast, it seemed like it was buzzing. Her mind was so distracted that she was not able to appreciate the halcyon whiteness of the room. In fact, she didn't even notice Ned waving at her feverishly from the left side of the crowd. All she could think about was keeping her balance and fighting the urge to faint.

Everything seemed to be strangely blurred, like she was walking into a dream. A dream which involved Draco standing beside the altar, with a wedding march playing in the background. It felt like they were walking forever. Beads of sweat started to appear on Hermione's forehead. She desperately wanted to ask for a handkerchief. Her hands, which were holding a bouquet of orchids, shook slightly with every step. In the corner of her eye, Lucius' blonde hair glimmered in the light. She blinked.

Finally, they had reached the altar. Draco, in an elegant dark gray suit which matched his eyes perfectly, walked towards them. Lucius had let go of her arm and shook his son's hand formally. Then, Draco held her by the elbow and escorted her as they both faced the priest. Though Hermione's sight was no longer blurred, she now felt as though her head was too big for her body. She wanted to throw up.

"It is not nice that a man to be alone," the priest began, "he can become fully human and fully alive only when he has someone to share his life with. Therefore, life becomes more meaningful when it is shared." Someone in the audience coughed. "Here, now we are going to start the celebration in which Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jane Granger are going to be united in the Holy Sacrament of Matrimony,"

At the mention of the word "matrimony", Hermione began to panic. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her nerves and stop herself from tearing her hair out. Beside her, Draco shifted his weight from one foot to another. Then, he took her arm and placed it in his.

The priest continued. "My dear brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to witness the sacramental union of Draco and Hermione and to share in their joy and happiness. Let us appreciate and congratulate them for their desire to be united on the Sacrament of Marriage. Let us thank God for bringing them together in love."

What the priest said couldn't have been more ironic.

"But before anything else, I would like to ask this crowd, if there is anyone present here which would not like this marriage to continue. Speak now or forever hold your peace,"

Hermione had waited for that line. She itched to raise her left hand high up in the air, as she always did in Hogwarts, but this time not to recite, but to save her from the hell that was waiting for her.

The crowd was deadly silent. Hermione wondered if Lucius would dare hex her in front of everyone if she had raised her hand. Seconds ticked. No one moved. Draco cleared his throat quietly.

"Very well," the priest said finally. "We shall now continue. Draco and Hermione, you are here today to seal your love with eternal bond before the church. May I ask you to answer truthfully the following questions?" He turned to Hermione. "Hermione, did you come here of your own free will to bind yourself forever in love and service of your husband?"

Bind? Forever? Service? Husband? Hermione swallowed and bit her lip. The truth was, all she wanted to do at that moment was to push Draco away, point an accusatory finger at him and yell _He made me do it!_ She glanced at him cautiously. He was looking straight at the priest.

"Hermione?"

"Yes," she heard herself say through gritted teeth. "Yes, Father." She wanted to puke now more than ever.

The priest then turned to Draco. "Draco, did you come here of your own free will to bind yourself forever in love and service of your wife?"

Draco didn't even flinch. "Yes, Father."

"Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?" The priest looked at them both.

For the first time in seven and a half days, they turned their heads and looked each other in the eye. Hermione couldn't read anything from Draco's reaction, though his eyes had the same glint of determination it held the day he told her to marry him.

"Yes, Father." Draco was the first to say it.

Hermione took a deep breath and imitated him. "Yes, Father," she repeated.

"Are you both ready to raise as good and obedient the children whom God will give to you?"

Hermione fought the urge to snort. But both of them expressed their assent.

"Since it is your intention to enter marriage, please join your right hands together and declare your consent before God and his church."

The two of them moved so that they faced each other. Hermione held her bouquet in her left hand as Draco took her right hand in his. She blushed a little.

"Hermione, do you take Draco here present, for your lawful husband according to the rite of the Church? To promise to love him, protect him, honor him, to cherish him for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"

"Like I have a choice," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Hermione quickly smiled at the priest. "I said yes, Father. Yes I do."

"Draco, do you take Hermione here present, for your lawful wife according to the rite of the Church? To promise to love her, protect her, honor her, to cherish her for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"

"Yes I do." Draco said in a cool voice.

The priest motioned for the ring bearer, a small boy with reddish hair, to come forward. "Now give these rings to one another and say after me."

The boy held up a red velvet box and opened it. Inside were two platinum rings with one sparkling diamond each. Draco took the thinner one and slipped it into Hermione's index finger while saying, "Hermione, as I place his ring in your hand, may our separate lives become one. This is a sign of my unconditional love, faithfulness and devotion to you in all the years to come."

Of course, Hermione knew it didn't mean anything. Draco's non-reaction was almost passivity. She felt anger bubbling in her chest. Imitating his gesture, she also extracted the ring from the box but this time, put it in his finger more forcefully than necessary. Draco glared at her. Hermione smiled sweetly, and said the same thing Draco had said as she gave him the ring. Draco's eyes narrowed.

When they finished, the priest spoke again. "Now that you have received the Holy Sacrament of Matrimony, I admonish you to remain faithful to one another. Hermione, love your husband and be a good wife; persevere in faith and love and holiness. Draco, love your wife as you love yourself and live with her in the fear of the Lord. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered and clapped at this.

Smiling, the priest said the line Hermione most dreaded.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Hermione froze. Will Draco really kiss her? She looked at Draco threateningly, daring him if he could do just that. To Hermione's dismay, Draco smirked, stepped closer, raised her veil and clutched both sides of her face.

"Don't you dare!" warned Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Why, darling, don't be shy," mocked Draco, pulling Hermione's face closer to him. She continued to resist, fighting Draco's pull to the point that her face was slightly smushed.

Draco forced a smile. "Hermione don't make this hard... stop it, book worm," he said, the last four words barely above a whisper.

Hermione turned her head slightly to glance at the crowd and found them staring expectantly at them. She saw Maud, with a tear-streaked face, now glaring at her. She looked back at Draco, eyes still narrowed.

"Better make it qui-mmmph!"

He didn't even let her finish and planted his lips firmly on hers. Hermione's eyes closed against her will. She cursed herself for yielding into the feel of Draco's soft lips. A second later, it was over and Draco was looking smug. Hermione wanted to hit him with the bouquet she was holding.

All the people in the room resumed their loud cheering and before the newlyweds knew it, they were being showered with rose petals and pink confetti. Hermione plastered a smile on her face and tried not to flinch when Draco put his arm around her and they walked down the aisle.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Ned called to her as they passed him. He waved at them, arms fully extended that he was already hitting those who were beside him. "Hermione! Congratulations!"

At the sight of her so-called friend, her rage began to resurface. She moved to go to him and give him a hearty slap, but Draco help her tighter.

"Not now, _sweetheart_," he said, a fake smile on his lips. "We have guests,"

"I don't care, _honey_," Hermione spat. "Leave me alone!"

But Draco didn't let her go until the crowd dispersed around them and the feast began. As Hermione expected, Draco left her at once and started chatting up Pansy. She glared at them furiously as she headed towards the buffet table.

"Yes, ma'am?" the waiter asked.

"Give me something with lots of alcohol," replied Hermione. She figured that getting drunk and senseless would be the best way to get out of there faster.

"Planning to get drunk?"

Hermione turned and found Blaise grinning at her. He wore a white suit and in Hermione's opinion, looked more of a groom than Draco did. She beamed at him.

"Hello, Blaise,"

"Congratulations, Hermione," said Blaise and before she could react, he pulled her into a hug. "I'm happy for you,"

"Yes, er, thanks, I guess," Hermione gave a nervous laugh as she pulled away.

"You look radiant, by the way,"

Hermione felt her cheeks burning. "Thank you."

The waiter called Hermione and handed her the drink she wanted. Blaise asked for one, too.

"This is good," said Hermione as she took a sip.

Blaise laughed. "Just make sure you don't get yourself too drunk. I don't think Draco would appreciate it on your first night,"

Hermione choked on her drink, coughing loudly. Blaise came to her rescue at once, rubbing her back gently.

"Hey, are you all right?" His brow was furrowed in concern.

Hermione nodded. But inside, her stomach was churning; she had completely forgotten about spending the night with Draco. Even the idea made her shudder.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Blaise again, as Hermione stopped coughing. "Here, take my handkerchief,"

Hermione took it gratefully and dabbed the sides of her mouth. "I'm fine, thanks. I hope my dress isn't ruined." She looked down at her gown and to her relief, it remained spotless. "Thank god," she said.

"I do think I'm developing the habit of making you choke on your drink," commented Blaise. For the first time that day, Hermione genuinely laughed.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you try not to," joked Hermione.

"I'll do my best!"

Because she found Blaise a great conversationalist and highly amusing, Hermione spent the entire time of the feast talking to him without her realizing it. It was all too soon for her when the guests started to say their goodbyes and congratulations for the last time. The waiters began cleaning up the place. Even Blaise said his farewell, bading Hermione a sincere good night. She noticed that Pansy had also left and before long, the only persons remaining were Narcissa, Maud, Draco and herself. At once, her nervousness came back. She mustered up the courage and walked towards them. Maud was still at it, yelling at the waiters at their every move. Narcissa was holding Draco's hand and looked very happy. Draco just looked tired.

Narcissa noticed Hermione as she came nearer, and to her surprise, she extended her arm to her and then enveloped her into a one-arm hug.

"You look stunning, my dear," said Narcissa, giving her a full look. Hermione thanked her graciously. She glanced at Draco, expecting him to look like he was about to disagree. But he was looking at her blankly.

Maud came towards them, after giving a particularly nasty comment to one of the waiters.

"Narcissa, I think we are finished here," she declared, giving Hermione a look. "I don't like your dress," she told her frankly.

Though Hermione very much wanted to agree, she still felt insulted. She tried to look apologetic.

"Don't you furrow your brow at me," admonished Maud, mistaking Hermione's intention. "Really, Narcissa, this girl doesn't have manners!"

"Stop it, Grandma," Draco spoke all of a sudden. They all looked at him. He was rubbing his eyes. "We're tired, Grandma. I bet you are, too. I think you should be on your way."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, Draco's right. We should get going, Mother, it's bad for you to stay tense,"

"Yes, yes, I suppose so," said Maud, giving a slight wave. "Well then, let us go, Narcissa. I presume Lucius is waiting for us in the car,"

Narcissa smiled at Hermione again. "Well, congratulations, dear. We'll just see you then,"

Hermione beamed at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,"

"Oh no, just call me Mother, if you like,"

"I would love that,"

Maud raised an eyebrow. "And you can call me Madame,"

Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Of course, Madame,"

"Goodbye, then, Draco dear," said Maud, giving Draco a peck on the cheek. Narcissa also gave him one. And to Hermione's joy, Narcissa also kissed her on the cheek. Unlike Maud, of course.

The two women stepped out of the room, finally leaving the newly wedded couple alone.

Hermione turned to Draco. "So...what now?" she asked nonchalantly.

Draco yawned. "I'm going to sleep,"

"Oh. Okay."

Draco had begun to walk away, but Hermione caught up with him.

"Wait! Where are we going to... going to stay?"

"We? _We're _not going to stay anywhere. _I'm_ going to my room and _you_---" he brought out a key from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. "---you are going to yours. I'll be seeing you, Granger!" Without another word, he turned away from her and walked away.

Hermione was left standing alone in the empty ballroom. A tear escaped her eye as the last light from the chandelier went out.

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Next Chapter: The Honeymoon….

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A/N: So, how was it? Pretty long, huh. I told you it would be. Well, just stay tuned for further plot development. And just in case you're wondering, I loved book 6 because Draco was not just on the sidelines. I just wish he wasn't so chicken. At least my Draco isn't OOC if you consider that.

Much thanks to:

auddy

Aya-Lane

AznAnimeGrl2649

Chewy518

eeesah

EngShin

Hazelocean

Koel

MioneSevShipper

mzchilin

OrgnlAmagic

ozzycow

PaRTy-GiRL089

Payne no Akuma

pinkstar146

Red and Gold

thespare617

unspottedgiraffe

Venursia

So, peeps, you know what to do! R&R! I'm going to be waiting for your reviews!


	8. Honeymoons and Bicycles

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.

A/N: So very sorry for taking sooo darn long. But you have TriDecaLogSin (hope I got your name right) to thank for this. I got guilty ofter she pm-ed me. Enough of the apology, here's the chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter 8: Honeymoons and Bicycles**

Hermione had never been on a yacht.

Now that she was on one, she had to admit that it was a rather relaxing place to be in.

She and Draco were on their "honeymoon" in the Bahamas, basking in the warm glow of the sun, the warm glow that they seldom felt in cold Mother England. At first, Hermione was actually hesitant to take this trip with Draco, considering that he left her alone on their wedding night. Not that she expected anything to happen, of course. Draco should just have been more considerate. But then again, you can't expect that from a Malfoy.

When Draco had asked her the next day on where she would want to spend their one week honeymoon, Hermione literally fell off her chair. She asked (yelled, technically) Draco about what the honeymoon was for. Them being married was enough, right?

Unfortunately, Draco didn't think so. He said they had to keep up appearances. And besides, he said, the company already gave him free time. He told her he wasn't going to spend it inside a boring house.

So the very next day, they packed their stuff and headed to the Floo Network. In exactly three minutes, they were in the sunny islands, aboard a huge yacht, with birds singing overhead and the smooth waves of the sea rocking them gently.

Hermione sat on the side of the balcony of the yacht, her feet dangling freely. Draco was sitting on her right, looking up at the sky with half-closed eyes. He wore a Hawaiian-styled polo, and stylish sunglasses. The cloth of the polo ruffled as the wind blew. Hermione noticed that his hair was not slicked with gel. It hung freely around his face, gleaming in the sunlight.

_He looks handsome when he's not scowling,_ Hermione thought, smiling slightly.

Draco moved his head to look in Hermione's direction. He spotted her looking at his hair.

"What is it this time, Granger?"

Hermione frowned. "What? I'm not doing anything,"

"You're staring at me."

"So?"

"Well do something else!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. _I take it back. He's as ugly as a troll,_

She returned to looking at the horizon, marveling at the beauty of nature in its serene splendor. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty smell of the sea. Hermione thought that if there was really a paradise, it would look exactly like what she was seeing.

"Hey, Granger!" Hermione heard Draco say. She sighed.

"What?" she replied, not turning around. She was annoyed that Draco still called her by her last name even though she was already his wife.

"Get out of the way,"

"What?"

"Get out of the way." repeated Draco.

"I'm not in your way," argued Hermione, with her back still facing Draco.

"You are. You just don't see it because you're not looking," Draco pointed out.

This made Hermione turn around. She found herself staring up at Draco who was standing right behind her. She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm at the _balcony_, Draco."

"Yes, and now _I_ want to be in the balcony, so shoo," said Draco, motioning for Hermione to go away.

Hermione stood up at this.

"Hey!"

"Hey what? I own this yacht,"

"Get your own corner," snapped Hermione.

"I will have one, once you get out of the way," retorted Draco.

"No," Hermione replied stubbornly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Draco sighed. "Fine then. Let's just do something else." To Hermione's utter surpise, he started to unbutton his shirt. Hermione's eyes widened as his toned flesh started to be exposed.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Getting undressed." he said simply.

Hermione thought she was going to have a heart attack. She stepped back cautiously. "Y-you can't do that!"

Draco looked straight at Hermione, a playful smirk on his lips. "Oh come on, Hermione. It's not like we're not married." He advanced towards her slowly.

Hermione stepped back again. "Stop joking, Malfoy. Stop this right now!"

Draco was still smirking. "Stop what?" As he said so, he flicked open the last button, making his chest and stomach very visible to Hermione.

She couldn't breathe as she gazed on his flawless skin and toned abs. Draco grinned.

"Like what you see, sweetheart?" He took another step forward.

At this point, Hermione was incapable of complete sentences.

"Malfoy--- stop--- can't--- God!"

She kept on going backwards, until her back hit the cold steel bars on the side of the yacht. She was trapped.

Draco kept advancing on her, slowly but surely. Hermione could only look at his eyes and tried to stare him down. But that wasn't working too well. Those gray orbs made her legs feel like jelly.

Their noses were only centimetres apart. Hermione stopped breathing.

Draco gazed at her with a smoldering look.

"Boo!" he whispered.

That was enough to make Hermione freak. With an "eep", she leaned backwards with such force that she toppled over the bars and splashed down into the peaceful blue waters.

This made Draco laugh. Hard.

He laughed loudly, clutching his stomach as Hermione flailed her arms around helplessly in the water. He continued to cackle as little be little, Hermione was submerged in the sea, only the tips of her fingers visible above the water. Until bubbles were the only thing that was proof that Hermione was underneath.

But after a few minutes, even the bubbles disappeared.

Draco tired to calm himself, as he looked down on the water.

"Hey, Granger!" he yelled. "You can come out now!"

There was no response.

"Oh come on, you think you could play this trick on me?" Draco continued, "Get out of the water Granger before you get a cold,"

Small waves disturbed the surface. But there was no sign of Hermione. Draco started to get nervous.

"Granger, this is not funny anymore. I said come up, now!"

It was all in vain, though. He couldn't spot Hermione.

"Shit."

Without thinking twice, he completely took off his shirt and dived into the cool waters. Draco blinked a couple of times to see properly. A couple of fishes swam past his face. He turned his head to the left and to the right but he couldn't see Hermione. He dived deeper, trying to make out the girl's silhouette. His heart thudded inside his chest. He swam this way and that but Hermione was not to be seen. Draco thought that he had only a little time left before he ran out of breath. So he continued swimming faster, desperate to spot any sign of Hermione.

Just before he released his last breath, in the corner of his eye he spotted Hermione's brown hair, waving eerily like a seaweed. He forced himself to get to her as fast as his arms would take him. Sure enough it was Hermione, and she seemed to be unconscious. Draco grabbed her under the arms and started to swim upward. Draco's vision began to get blurry. He needed oxygen. He padded his feet as fast as he could, though he was tired. He was nearing the surface, seeing the light grow brighter. With one last push, Draco's head emerged. He pulled Hermione up with him, her head lolling to one side. He snaked one arm around her waist. With one arm, he swam to the yacht. One of the crew looking out into the sea spotted them and also dived into the water to help. Both of them struggled to bring Hermione back on the deck. After doing so, the man also pulled Draco back on the boat.

Draco quickly bent down on the unconscious Hermione, patting her cheek gently.

"Hermione, wake up," he told her. But her eyes remained closed. Her curly hair stuck to her face. "Hermione, wake up!"

The man who helped him also bent down beside Draco. He held his hand over Hermione's mouth.

"She's not breathing, sir. I think you should give her mouth-to-mouth."

"What to what?"

"Mouth to mouth?"

"My wife is unconscious, not horny," stated Draco.

The man looked skeptically at him. "Sir, I meant you should give her mouth to mouth resuscitation. To make her breathe again,"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Since it was evident to the man that Draco currently had temporary amnesia, he pushed him aside impatiently and said, "I'll handle it,"

He lowered his face to Hermione's, cupped her face and put his mouth on hers.

The next moment, he found himself thrown aside by such a force that his back hit the metal bars on the side of the yacht with an unpleasant crunching sound. Draco was looking at him murderously.

"Do not touch her," he said with quiet rage.

"But sir---"

To the man's astonishment, Draco pulled out a thin piece of wood out of his pocket and pointed it at him.

"Obliviate!"

The moment the man's eyes held that glassy look, Draco quickly turned his attention to the still unconscious Hermione. By this time, he was nearing panic. He tried to remember the reviving spell he had learned during Warlock's Camp.

"Think! Think!" he said to himself.

As he watched, Hermione became more pallid.

Draco didn't know what to do if she died on that spot. What was he supposed to tell his parents and his grandmother? That he pushed his wife into the sea and let her drown? Lucius wouldn't exactly be mourning but he could just imagine how stupid he would look if his plans to rebel against Lucius would be botched by Hermione's untimely demise on their honeymoon. Not to mention that his reputation would be at an all-time low.

The pressure he was bringing upon himself helped him, though, because at the last minute, when Hermione's lips were about to turn blue, he remembered the spell.

"Revivisco!"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open at once. After a sharp intake of breath, she started coughing severely. Draco was too relieved to see the color return to her cheeks to do anything about it, though. He didn't want Hermione to see the smile creeping on his lips so he turned away and looked at the crew man who was still staring blankly at them. Once again, he pointed his wand at him.

"You remember nothing of this. You will go back to where you were before all this. If anybody asks you what happened, tell them you just went swimming with us, got it?" The man stared unmoving. With a flick of the wand, the man blinked back to life, stood up and dragged himself back to the other side of the yacht, still disoriented.

"W-what happened?"

Draco looked back at Hermione to see that she was sitting upright, clutching her chest. Her voice was a bit raspy from too much coughing.

"Oh it was nothing," answered Draco nonchalantly.

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds before a realization dawned on her.

"You tried to kill me, didn't you?" She asked unbelievingly.

Draco huffed indignantly. "I did not!"

"And what did you push me off the boat for?"

"I didn't push you off the boat," said Draco at the red-faced Hermione. "You toppled over by yourself,"

"I did not!" argued Hermione. "You took your shirt off and--- and---"

"And you were so astonished at how handsome I am that you lost your balance and fell into the deep blue sea?"

Hermione's face suffused with rage. "If I just had something in my hands right now, I would've thrown it at you,"

"You could take off those clothes you're wearing, make them into a ball and hurl it my way," suggested Draco innocently.

Hermione lips pursed in fury. She rapidly got on her feet, took one last disgusted look at Draco and stomped back to the cabin, muttering about how men had some nerve to push people into the sea, leave them to drown and not even look apologetic about it.

Draco smirked at her retreating back. Hermione couldn't possibly blame Draco for taunting her. It wasn't his fault she looked adorable when pissed off.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"God, I'm tired," Hermione muttered that night, as she got out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. Her head ached and when she swallowed, there was a twinge of pain in her right ear. She definitely was going to get a cold.

And it was definitely Draco's fault.

After her near-death experience that morning, Draco made sure to steer clear of her. He stalked off to God knows where after they went back to the hotel for lunch. Hermione hadn't seen him since.

_Well that's just fine. I don't need him anyway,_ Hermione thought.

It was a cold, breezy night. The wind blew fiercely from the open balcony and into the living area, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She hastily put on her blue sweatshirt which was left lying on one of the armchairs. She rubbed the side of her arms to keep her warm. The vision of the huge bed with the thick covers came into her mind. Smiling, she headed off to the bedroom.

She could already imagine herself curling up under the warm covers, with the night air whispering gently in her ear. Outside, only crickets would be heard and their croaky chirps would lull her to sleep.

She reached the bedroom door with a smile on her face.

_At last, I'm going to get some well-deserved---_

"Malfoy?"

Hermione blinked but what was in front of her did not change.

Draco was sprawled comfortably on the bed, wearing a yellow sando and pajama bottoms. He had his eyes closed but when he heard Hermione, he opened one to look at her.

"Oh. You." Draco said, before closing his eyes again as if nothing happened.

Hermione marched forward, a hand on her hip. "Yes, me," she said. "Why are you lying on the bed?"

"Uh, because I want to sleep?"

"Well you can't sleep there!"

Draco sighed, sat up and stared at her bleary-eyed. "Why not?"

"Because _I'm _sleeping there!"

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "Stop it! I'm tired, all right? Don't fight me on this one and just get off of the bed!"

"Do I look like I have the energy to do that?" Draco said.

"Well, what do you want me to do, drag you off, push you off, or make you disappear?" Hermione retorted sarcastically.

"You know, you're right," said Draco, lying back down. "You're tired, I'm tired, we shouldn't fight. I mean why fight? This is a big bed, you can come and sleep beside me." He patted the empty space beside him. "Go on."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden. "I'm not going to sleep with you!"

Draco smirked sleepily. "You're not going to sleep _with_ me, Granger. You're going to sleep _beside_ me."

Hermione's face turned redder at this. "But if you don't want to, I'm not forcing you. There's a pretty cozy couch with a pretty warm blanket outside. You can sleep there."

"You're asking me to sleep on the couch?" Hermione said indignantly.

"Oh no, of course not," said Draco coolly. He batted his eyelashes at Hermione. "I'm just giving you an option."

"I don't believe this!" growled Hermione. She turned her back on Draco's grinning face and went out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She marched towards the couch and sat heavily on it, fuming.

He was doing it again, pushing her around and manipulating her. Draco did not have the right to hog the bed and he does not have the right to tell her what to do.

But then again, she wasn't going to sleep on the same bed with him, either.

For the lack of something better to do, Hermione roughly grabbed the blanket beside her and covered herself with it, curling up on the small sofa. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but her raging spirit wouldn't let her.

_You always let him get his way, it's time to fight back!_ A voice in head told her.

_But if it requires getting that close to him, I don't want to,_ said another voice.

_But you're not going to lose anything if you sleep beside him!_

_How about my dignity?_

_You're losing your dignity by lying in this uncomfortable couch and letting him sleep in that huge bed!_

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

The voice in her head was right. Giving in to Draco's demands wasn't exactly boosting her self-esteem. And if she lets him do it every time, it's going to get worse and worse.

It was time to show him who wears the pants in this so-called marriage.

A second later, she was up and was on her way back to the bedroom.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Draco yawned and rolled over the snug bed lazily.

He didn't imagine Hermione was going to give up that easily. Of course, he knew her enough to know she was too proud to let herself sleep beside the enemy. He grinned.

Well, it was a bit too cruel to let her sleep on the couch on their honeymoon. But it's okay. Hermione's used to roughing it up at home. He couldn't see the difference.

Besides, he had to show her who wears the pants in this so-called marriage.

He stretched once more and prepared himself for a good night's sleep.

BANG!

"Whatthe---!" Draco sat up with a jerk, shocked by the loud sound. His eyes widened as he saw Hermione in the doorway, looking determined.

"Did you just kick the door?" Draco asked.

Hermione merely grinned at him. Then she pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing a spaghetti-strapped red blouse clinging tightly to her curves.

_Holy Mother of Merlin, _thought Draco, mouth slightly open.

Hermione's hair was messed up and still slightly wet and her eyes burned with anger. Draco thought he had never seen anything sexier.

"I changed my mind, _honey_," said Hermione. "I think I'm going to sleep beside you tonight."

She walked slowly toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively, her gaze not leaving Draco. Draco tried not to watch the pendulum-like movement of those shapely hips but he was caught. If his mind wasn't so muddled at that very moment, he could've sworn she was doing it on purpose.

"W-wha---" he stammered.

Hermione smiled at him. "Speechless?"

As she reached the foot of the bed, she kicked off her slippers and started to crawl up on the bed. Draco couldn't help his eyes from straying to the beautiful view he was given. The pinkish flesh of Hermione's chest made him dizzy. At that moment, he found out that Hermione was a _blessed_ woman.

She crawled up to him ever so slowly, torturing the awed Draco, until they were face to face. Hermione grinned once again before lying down, her hair splaying over the pillows. She stretched out her arms and moaned in a way that Draco thought should be illegal. She turned her head to look at him.

"Aren't you going to lie down yet?" she asked, smiling.

As if he was burned, Draco jumped off of the bed, hitting the lamp on his bedside and losing his balance. He landed squarely on his butt.

Hermione smiled wider.

Embarrassed, he quickly stood up and straightened up consciously.

"What's the matter, Draco, not feeling too sleepy?" purred Hermione.

Draco tried not to blush. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, come on then," Hermione imitated his action earlier and patted the empty space on the bed beside her. Draco stood dead still. "Don't you want to?" Hermione giggled. "That's okay, I'm not forcing you; there's a pretty cozy couch with a pretty warm blanket outside." She gave him her sweetest smile.

"I'm not sleeping outside," snapped Draco.

"Then what are you doing standing there, all sweaty and nervous?"

_Damn you, woman!_ thought Draco angrily.

Was he going to let her maneuver her way into that comfortable bed? What was happening to him anyway? Blood was rushing to his face and he felt so wide awake. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he stared at Hermione, her arms and legs stretched out on the covers. For a moment, he thought that the sight of Hermione on the bed turned him on. But that was impossible, of course. She could never turn him on even if she was naked, writhing in pleasure as he---

Draco shook the ridiculous thoughts out of his head.

Not knowing what to do, he took off the sando he was wearing.

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise from Draco's unexpected move and her eyes widened.

He noticed this and grinned inwardly. So she was putting on a show, wasn't she? She was using his game to beat him out of the bedroom. Well, he wasn't about to let her.

"I just wanted to take off my shirt," he said simply, his confidence returning.

Then, he slowly sat back on the bed, making sure his face hovered over Hermione's. It was her turn to get all sweaty and nervous. Draco smirked as she wriggled away and faced the other side. He lay back down.

"Aahh! This is comfortable!" said Draco, facing Hermione and purposefully putting an arm around her waist. He felt Hermione wince. He scooted closer.

Apparently, Hermione wasn't giving up, too. All of a sudden, she was facing him again, with her leg curled on _his _waist. Draco narrowed his eyes. He freed one leg and put it on top of Hermione's.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, too, and then put an arm on Draco's shoulders. Draco answered back by pulling her closer. They were now nose to nose, having a fierce staring contest.

Draco could clearly see the dash of freckles on Hermione's nose, and the little specks of green in her eyes. He could also see just how smooth and pink her lips were. There was a small red line on her lower lip, which, Draco deduced, was probably from being bitten too much. His eyes traveled to her creaseless forehead and shaped eyebrows, then back to her eyes, which stared back at him fiercely. Those eyes which always dared him to... to...

In that instant, Draco felt this wild, uncontrollable desire to kiss Hermione. For some strange reason, she seemed to have read his mind. Hermione suddenly blushed and then frantically tried to untangle herself from Draco.

Draco tried the same thing, desperate to resist the temptation of kissing her. In a blur of legs and arms, they managed to extricate themselves from each other. They ended up sitting up right, facing each other, slightly panting from the effort.

Draco looked at Hermione again. "Just sleep outside, Granger."

Hermione glared at him. "No."

"Yes."

"NO! Why don't _you_ sleep outside?"

"Why would I? I was here first!"

Hermione punched Draco in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being a jerk!" She said angrily, before punching him again.

"Ow! Stop it!"

"I will not!" Punch.

"Hey!"

Hermione continued to punch, as Draco tried to defend himself.

"You are a lazy, cruel, no-good jerk!"

"Ow! Ow! I said stop it, Granger!"

Hermione didn't heed Draco. So Draco batted way Hermione's arms and grabbing her by the shoulders, pulled her to him. Now this stopped Hermione.

"Outside," repeated Draco.

"No," reiterated Hermione, looking at him with such defiance, he almost admired her for it.

He cupped the side of Hermione's face with his left hand and leaned closer. She felt her tensing against him.

"Last chance, Granger,"

Her eyes by now held a little bit of apprehension but her pride didn't let her admit it.

"No," she repeated.

So Draco did what he ought to and planted his lips on Hermione's in a deep kiss that took her by surprise. Draco kissed her gently at first, nibbling on her upper lip. He was surprised to find that Hermione wasn't pushing him away. She wasn't kissing him back, too, but that was expected.

And because Hermione didn't slap him yet, he kept on kissing her, the kiss becoming deeper and more urgent. He caressed her lower lip with his tongue, making her open her mouth slightly. Then he went temporarily insane and with an irrational surge of passion, he bit her lip with a little more force than he should've. This brought Hermione back to her senses, and roughly pushed him away, eyes wide and lips bruised.

Draco tried to explain but Hermione's slap beat her to it.

"Ow!" exclaimed Draco, clutching his stinging cheek. "That hurt, Granger!"

But Hermione didn't say anything. Hate filled her gaze and without another word, she got off the bed and out into the room.

Draco sighed and shook his head as she left.

So much for a good night's sleep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Hermione was up early. Probably because she didn't sleep at all. She was much too disturbed by last night's events to actually hope for a relaxed slumber. Thoughts of Draco kissing her invaded her thoughts and kept her awake all night. She wasn't surprised to find dark circles under her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror that morning.

Draco hadn't come out yet and was probably still sleeping. Hermione wished he would never come out of the bedroom. She was furious at him. Furious for taking advantage of her, for being such a cocky bastard and for being a great kisser. She was furious with herself, too. She wasn't supposed to let him kiss her. She was supposed to push him away and punch him in the nose the moment he dared touch her.

But she didn't. Hermione felt like her strength of character had been insulted. It was one thing to let Draco kiss her like that. It was another to actually like it.

She whimpered in frustration as she settled herself on the breakfast nook.

Breakfast had arrived early, brought in by two chambermaids. And even though her stomach was grumbling, Hermione couldn't force herself to eat a bite. The sweet smell of fruits and the crispy smell of bacon did nothing to her appetite. She stared at the feast in front of her with disinterest.

The sound of a creaking door broke her stupor. Hermione stiffened, not wanting to turn around and meet his eyes.

"There's breakfast already," said Draco. He walked towards the table and took a seat across from Hermione. "How come you didn't tell me?"

His hair was still dripping wet. He had a towel draped around his neck and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Hermione wanted to ask him when he entered the bathroom because she didn't notice, but then she remembered that she was angry at him so she kept quiet.

_The git probably apparated to the bathroom,_ she thought irritably.

Draco stretched his arms upward before grabbing a fork and digging in. His glistening chest distracted Hermione for a second but she was quick to hide it.

_Show off_, thought Hermione, grimacing.

"Why aren't you eating?" Draco asked Hermione, not looking at her.

Hermione pursed her lips and said nothing. Draco had some nerve to talk to her and act like nothing happened. But it's not like Hermione expected him to apologize. He wasn't sorry when she almost drowned yesterday, why would he be sorry for kissing her?

Hermione bowed her head, not wanting to watch Draco gobble up his food. He noticed this, however, and was quick to voice it out.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Hermione didn't answer him again.

"Hey, Granger, what's wrong with you?"

But Hermione pretended she didn't hear anything. Instead, she picked up the rolled-up newspaper on the table, and hid her face behind it.

"Hey, Granger!" Draco grabbed the newspaper out of her hands and threw it aside, forcing her to turn her attention to him. "What's with the silent treatment?"

Hermione scoffed, not being able to control herself any longer. "You're completely clueless, aren't you, Malfoy?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I'm not going to tell you,"

With that, Hermione scraped her chair back and left the table. Draco threw down his fork with a loud clink.

"You don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you, Granger," he told her angrily.

But Hermione didn't turn around. Instead, she picked up her jacket from the coat hanger and walked out of the room.

Hermione actually had no idea as to where she was planning to go but since all she was thinking of was to get away from Draco and avoid another full-blown fight, she really didn't care. The Bahamas was a magnificent place and she wasn't going to spend her time cooped up in the hotel room with a person who obviously hated her. She was eager to visit the motley of shops and parks and see all the sights the Bahamas was famous for.

Deciding that she did not want to walk around all day, she went towards the Hotel bicycle rentals and got herself a cute yellow bike. Slightly smiling with the prospect of not seeing Draco for the rest of the day, she pedaled away from the hotel. Apparently, she did not pedal fast enough, for only a few feet away, she heard a voice call her name.

"Hermione!"

Hermione, however reluctantly, stopped, but did not look back.

"Hermione!" Draco called out again. Hermione fought the urge to swivel towards him and run him over.

_What would he want with me now?_ she asked herself irritably.

"What?"

Draco jogged towards Hermione, still shirtless and with the towel on his neck. Some of the girls who passed by giggled flirtatiously. Hermione pretended she didn't notice.

"Where do you think you're going, Granger?" Draco asked, undaunted by Hermione's passivity. "That's no way to treat your husband, leaving like that in the middle of breakfast,"

Hermione noticed a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She gritted her teeth. "I was trying to get away from you, Malfoy. Unfortunately, I haven't done it well enough."

"Dear, dear, not so nice today, are we? I bet you woke up on the wrong side of the bed-- or should I say couch," teased Draco, inwardly amazed at his wittiness.

Hermione, still not looking directly at the blonde Slytherin, rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to be funny. You're giving me a headache,"

"Well I suppose a nice little walk around town will help the grumpiness go away. What do you think? Let's have some quality husband and wife time together."

Despite herself, Hermione turned her head to look unbelievingly at the grinning Draco.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Granger, let's have a bit of a walk, you and I. What do you say?"

"I say you're off your rocker. I also say you should put a shirt on because you're causing accidents," Hermione motioned to some passing teenage girls who rammed straight into a tree because they were busy looking at Draco.

Draco sighed. "I know. Being handsome is a tough job, but someone has to do it." Hermione wanted to gag, of course but thought it was highly indecent. She contented herself with staring coldly at Draco.

"Malfoy, please, stop playing games with me. All I want is to get out and have fun."

"And you can't do that with me?"

Hermione snorted. "Is that even a question? Of course I can't do that with you! You're the bane of my existence!"

Draco pretended to be touched. "Aw, Granger. I love you, too," he replied, sneering. "Listen, just give me this morning. Let's pretend we don't hate each other for one day. Just one day. We'll go out, see what's there to see, then go and bug each other again the next day. Come on, what say you?"

Hermione gave him a calculating look. "What's in it for me?"

"An entire day with your gorgeous, thoughtful and loving husband in the Bahamas Paradise," declared Draco. Hermione blinked at him. "A raise, two plates of spaghetti with garlic bread, and I'm gonna let your cat chew on a pair of leather shoes my grandmother gave me for Christmas,"

"Deal." grinned Hermione.

Draco smirked. "So let's go?"

"Yeah, just go and get your bike and we'll be off,"

Draco's brow furrowed. "Bike?"

"Yeah, bike."

"What's that?"

Hermione snorted. "What do you mean what's that?"

"What's a bike?" asked Draco.

"Are you kidding me? And don't give me that I'm-innocent-and-I'm-not-pulling-your-leg-promise look, because it's sure as hell not working."

Draco stared blankly at her. Hermione put her hands up in surrender.

"O-kay! Let me get this straight. You don't know what a bike is?"

"Nope."

"Never seen one before?"

"Well how am I supposed to know that if I don't even know what it is? Honestly, Granger, ask some smart questions."

Hermione smiled wryly at Draco. "Okay then, Malfoy, this here," she said, pointing at the bicycle she was riding, "is a bike. Bicycle. Bi meaning two, cycle meaning circle, pertaining to the two wheels of the bike. It was invented by---"

"I get the point," interrupted Draco. "I don't need to know the history of the bloody thing, Granger. And yes, I've seen those, now that I remember. I just didn't know what they were called. So now I know, you can have the information overload for yourself."

"So you know what this is for?"

"Well, I've seen Muggles use it. I bet it's easy to learn how to ride it. I mean, you're able to, so..."

"Ha, ha. Thank you for the compliment, Malfoy. So if you're so great, get one for yourself and hurry up. It's almost lunch."

Hermione followed Draco to the bicycle rentals and waited for him to pick one, which, Draco being Draco, took forever. He kept asking peculiar questions, like "Is my seat leather?", "Doesn't this have a seatbelt?" "Is this bicycle insured?" and "Can I have my honk customized?", that the rental guy couldn't take him anymore and begged Hermione, for the love of God, to take Draco away in the next five minutes and he's going to give the rental free. The couple walked away, with Hermione pulling on Draco's arm, while the blonde Slytherin was busy complaining why the color of his bicycle was red.

"I mean for God's sake, red is such a pansy color. Why couldn't I have the snazzy silver one? Or the black one with the orange headlights?"

"Because you said the snazzy silver one was stainless and not platinum, and that orange headlights clashed with the color of your hair," Hermione reminded him impatiently.

Draco smirked. "Oh yeah. Right."

"So are we ready to go?"

"Ready. I'm sure this is going to be as easy as breathing."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"No no no, keep it steady, keep it steady!" yelled Hermione as Draco wobbled dangerously on the bicycle, trying to stay on it for more than five seconds.

"I'm trying, Granger but it's not working!" Draco yelled back. Hermione sighed and shook her head tiredly.

Draco, apparently, did not have a sense of balance, Hermione thought. His arms would suddenly jerk from this way to that as soon as she let go of the support she lent by holding the rear end of the bike. Not long after that, Draco would start to panic. At first, the look on Draco's face amused Hermione and kept her from getting hysterical. But after so long, even Draco's less than manly wailing did very little for her patience.

Draco stopped his pathetic attempt at pedaling and threw up his arms in frustration. "There must be something wrong with this bike, Granger. Let's get another one,"

Hermione closed her eyes and prayed for more patience.

"We've already been through this, Draco," she replied as calmly as she could. "That is the twenty-fourth bicycle you've bought this month. If you buy another one, you'll get into the Guinness Book of World Records,"

"The what?"

"Nothing," sighed Hermione.

It was two months after their so-called honeymoon and Draco was being as difficult as usual. It wasn't enough that they spent a good part of their stay in the Bahamas bickering, Draco also found it entertaining to pester Hermione until he learned how to ride the bicycle, which, in Hermione's opinion, was becoming less of a possibility every passing day. Hermione would've felt sorry for the former Slytherin but the barrage of insults he directed at her was making that quite difficult.

That day, much to Hermione's dismay, was no different. The "newlyweds" were currently in the backyard, with Hermione _still _very much hoping that a sense of balance was something you acquire. Because it was evident that Draco was not born with it.

Hermione rubbed her eyes in frustration. "Look, there is nothing wrong with the bicycle-"

"Well, how do you know? Are you a bicycle expert now?"

"No, but at least I know how to ride one,"

Draco grit his teeth. "Not funny, Granger."

_Actually, it is,_ Hermione thought, fighting the urge to grin. "Yeah well, I find it hard to laugh, too, since I'm exhausted in trying to teach you!"

"Oh there you go again, blaming your student. Hasn't it ever occurred to you that you're probably a bad teacher? I bet I've learned to ride this sodding thing _ages_ ago if someone more knowledgeable was teaching me!" Draco shouted back, flipping back his bangs in indignation.

"Knowledgeable? What is there to be knowledgeable about?" yelled Hermione. "All you have to do is hold on and pedal!"

"Obviously there must be something more to it since I've been doing that and nothing seems to be happening!"

"Maybe because you're just incompetent at it! Like so many other things!"

Draco looked genuinely offended. "Incompetent?"

Hermione cringed a bit at the look he was giving her. "Well, maybe… just… little,"

"Of all the things that I am not," Draco hissed, "it is incompetent,"

And with a look of pure determination, Draco gripped the handlebars so tightly his knuckles turned white, crouched forward and without even waiting for Hermione to support the rear end of the bike pushed forward with his left foot and started pedaling.

Hermione almost had a heart attack.

He was doing it. Draco was effectively riding the bicycle! Aside from the small wobbles and the fact that Draco looked like he was going to throw up, he was doing it. He even did a complete circle around Hermione, probably to prove to her that he was in no way incompetent.

After a few more seconds he skidded to a halt in front of her.

"Oh Merlin! You did it!" Hermione cheered, giving Draco a pat on the back.

Draco was sweating but he managed a smirk. "Told you I would."

"I can't believe it! And all I had to do was piss you off! If I knew that was the trick, I would've done it long ago!" Hermione beamed.

Draco glared at her. "You really can't accept the fact that I'm magnificent, can't you?" He straightened up and wiped the sweat from his brow. "And besides, it wasn't that hard, really,"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It took me two months to teach you this,"

"Well I bet it was way much faster than the time it took other Muggles,"

"Draco, I learned how to ride a bike in two days. When I was six,"

"I said _other Muggles_, Granger," retorted Draco, "you're not like other muggles, you're a freak of nature,"

"Your welcome, Malfoy," Hermione scathingly replied.

Draco grinned. "I feel great. Want some ice cream?"

Hermione was just about to say yes when she noticed someone standing by the back door. Draco followed Hermione's distracted gaze and turned around.

"Pansy?"

Pansy Parkinson waved at them. "Hello. I came by to visit you. The door was open so I let myself in. You don't mind, do you?" She looked glorious in a flowing white dress, smiling openly at Draco, as if she didn't even notice Hermione standing right beside him.

Draco smiled. "Of course not,"

Hermione felt something heavy sink down her stomach. Try as she might, she had instinctively reacted to the way Draco was talking to Pansy. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek in irritation. Pansy had no business barging into their house like that, inviting herself in without even thinking twice. She wanted to say "_I_ mind" but hesitated.

Draco walked toward Pansy, bicycle in tow.

"Oh Draco, I didn't know you could ride a bicycle," Pansy commented.

Draco smirked. "Yeah well, I'm amazing, what can I say?"

Pansy laughed appreciatively. Hermione fought the urge to strangle them both.

"So, are you busy? I was thinking of having lunch. How about it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Draco cut her off.

"No, we're done here. I'll be back in a moment,"

"B-b-but---" stammered Hermione. _What about my ice cream?_

Draco spared her a glance. "Don't wait up."

And just when Hermione felt their relationship was getting better, with just three words, Draco managed to kick it back down to square one.

TBC.

A/N: and just when you thought I wasn't going to update. Hehe. What can I tell you, I'm unpredictable!

I hope you like this chapter. The ending was a bit rushed because I had to cook lunch. Anyway, I'm going to take the opportunity to thank everyone of you who waited for this, who put me on their author alert list, those who have this story on their favorites... a hundred kisses from Draco for you! A **humongous** thank you. God knows how much I love you. So now, do your part and review. I'll be waiting:)

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